King of Serpents
by karatemaster101
Summary: He was left for a Squib as a child, too smart for his own good. Now everything comes tumbling back at him, and Artemis Fowl II is thrown into the world of magic, for better or for worse. And what's this about a stone that can turn any metal into gold?... COMPLETED: SEQUEL UP
1. Concerning the Child

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><p>He had done it again.<p>

Artemis was not sure why these things were happening or what was happening in the first place, and this unnerved him greatly. Even at the tender age of one, he was aware of his surroundings and place. Capable of coherent, mature speech and thought at the level of his parents' already, he was eager to explore even more, to find knowledge and hide it to himself.

His father had taught him about gold and money before, speaking to him while he was "sleeping" in his crib (the man had no idea that the baby was actually listening and comprehending the poisonous stories), and while Artemis understood this greed for materialistic goods, he also developed a greed of his own, for power and information.

So when he turned his useless rattle into a white lab rat that day, he realized that there was more to be discovered beyond regular physical science.

He knew things like this should not be happening, that these occurrences were somehow special. On the few trips his family took together, out to the city, he noticed that no other child or adult he ran into had this power, to turn things into other things.

A few months later, when Juliet had put him in time-out for ten minutes (he had broken a rather expensive vase while attempting to decipher some symbols etched into the side), he had angrily stared at the stopwatch in lieu of Juliet, only to find that it was actually clicking backwards at a rate faster than normal. His bodyguard's younger sister had arrived back upstairs to relieve the young man of his punishment, not noticing that the time on the stopwatch and the standard clocks scattered around the house did not correspond.

So moving things without touching them was also part of his unique powers, as he had taken to calling them now.

Several times he had come close to telling his parents, to come running to them, to brag to them, but his father was almost always away on business ventures, and his mother was almost always away at high society parties.

He took this as a sign that these unique powers should be kept a secret, and he hoarded them as his father hoarded his riches, eventually stashing them away, showing no one but himself.

* * *

><p>When he was seven, he caught his parents discussing something in private, along with Butler and Juliet. He strained to listen, but all he could hear was snippets of conversation as his parents were talking so quietly.<p>

"He is so intelligent…must have shown by now," whispered his father.

"Maybe he's just a late bloomer…" countered his mother.

"Perhaps…would bring it out?"

"But it would hurt him more, seeing something he could never have!"

"If…he would…"

"No! You will not! One, it scares me, two, the world will condemn us for it! You know that as well as I, Timmy!" This was the only thing that his mother said audibly.

"It's not as if people are looking inside our mansion, Angeline, darling," his father protested.

"But still, don't…" Back to the whispers.

As the conversation carried on, young Artemis only became more and more perplexed. He was certain his parents were talking about him, although about what he could not imagine. What was he supposed to have?

He was already good at reading people, having practiced well, and knew that there was nervousness and anguish on his mother's side and disappointment on his father's. He did not have something he should have, and that was bad…but maybe his special powers would make up for it. Of course, he would have to develop it to full potential before actually showing his parents.

His father turned to Butler. "You are one of the…we trust. If…you will make sure that he receives the same care and education as…if he ever DOES…alert us immediately and we will…his training." Butler nodded, and Juliet seemed sad.

* * *

><p>The next morning, his father ordered Butler and Juliet to move a large selection of objects. Artemis never got to see where. He hoped that whatever was supposed to happen would happen, so that maybe his parents would spend more time at home and give him whatever training he was supposed to have (because as much as he liked Butler and Juliet, he did not want to have to go through the same education the siblings had).<p>

So for years he developed his powers in secret, making objects disappear and move at will, changing the properties and shapes of matter (which should not have been possible, according to the science books), and even speaking to animals…exerting over them such strong control that both terrified and fascinated him at the same time. The only thing keeping him from abusing his power was the memory how he himself despised being controlled.

But then, when he was ten, Artemis Fowl Sr. disappeared, as a result of kidnapping by the Russian mafiya.

He had stared in shock when his mother had told him the news, before screwing his face back into the impassive mask that his father had always taught him to wear proudly. Something on her face flickered – almost like a lie, although Artemis assumed that was from his mother's own shock, and the fact that she was trying to hide the worst of the news from him. If his mother were lying, the details would have been more obvious.

Soon after, Angeline Fowl began her descent into madness.

And Artemis showed no one, his efforts poured out into restoring the family fortune and finding his father instead.

For a year he searched, with no luck. He had published some of his scientific papers under aliases, embezzled funds, hacked into accounts, stolen identities (and covering up his tracks well afterwards), committed the most daring cases of financial crime ever recorded. All this, he told himself, was for the family, and for his father, and his mother when his father returned (but a nastier side of him also found it fun, like a challenge, a game – protect your money, an evil child genius is on the loose! How many people will be cheated in an hour?).

Yes, he had a twisted sense of humor beyond his age, and while he would have committed any other being to therapy, he reserved his own case as an exception.

Then, it all changed when the owl appeared in his window one summer day.


	2. Flight of the Owl

His young charge had been sitting at his computer, tapping away at god-knows-what (Butler had stopped trying to understand years ago), when the owl had come.

At first, Butler had thought it was an intruder of some sort – he had heard a series of taps against the study window before a large _CRACK_, until he remembered that intruders would not knock. His breath had caught in his throat – after all this time, could it be?

When Artemis the Second had reached seven, the Fowls had been concerned, for he displayed no signs of magic at all. Lady Fowl was worried, and tried to convince herself and her husband that their son's strength had gone to his genius and therefore took longer to develop his powers, but they put away all the "magic" equipment just in case the prodigy really was a Squib, so as not to hurt him.

But it had hurt her so, when the boy neared ten and still no displays of magic ever occurred. And while the Butlers were not a magical family, Butler still felt somehow that he failed. The Butlers had served the Fowls for centuries, because even though they were a pureblooded family, they had never cared much about that status – power, wealth, whatever, it was all the same thing, and curse the social stigmas. In any event, Butlers were more useful and trustworthy than house-elves.

Artemis the First disappearing had been the last straw for her, and the Lady became quite mentally ill, leaving Artemis alone with the Butlers, and it seemed he would never discover this wonderful world.

But then, the owl arrived! And for once Butler was shocked, though in an elated way, while his employer was simply annoyed at having his work disrupted.

"Why is there an owl, outside of my window, in the broad daylight?" Artemis had asked, and it did not take a genius to remember that owls were nocturnal creatures, so they would stand out in this scenario, even if it did not have a scroll tied to its foot.

"I believe, sir, that it has come to deliver something," Butler said simply, and opened the window, untying the paper from the owl's leg.

At that moment, Juliet, and to Artemis' visible shock, Butler noticed, Angeline came rushing into the room. "Did you say there was an owl here for Artemis?" Angeline asked, her voice hopeful. Then she saw the fowl (ha-ha, see what I did there?) in the room, and the scroll in Butler's hand, and gasped. "But it can't be!"

"I dearly appreciate how invisible and ignorant I have been deemed in this past minute," Artemis drawled coldly.

Butler cleared his throat, and from the way young Artemis' icy eyes pierced him, he knew that the child could tell that he was nervous. "Perhaps you should read this, sir," he stated, handing the scroll to Artemis.

Still glaring at everyone in the room, Artemis gingerly took the scroll with one hand, and with the thumb and forefinger of the other hand, gently pulled at the ribbon holding the parchment together as though it was infected with some kind of disease and he was attempting to minimize the amount of contact his skin made with the silk.

The strip of parchment unfurled, and the first words out of Artemis' mouth as he skimmed the first line was, "What sort of farce is this?"

"This is no farce, my son, it is your acceptance letter into Hogwarts!" Angeline beamed excitedly, her eyes more alive than ever.

Artemis seemed shocked that a simple letter of acceptance into some school of "witchcraft and wizardry" was enough to bring his crazy mother out of her trance (or perhaps he was thinking that he himself had gone mad? Butler would never be able to decipher what the child was thinking). "Magic? Mother, forgive me for being somewhat doubtful."

"Doubtful, yes, but it's true. Artemis, have strange things happened to you? Special, unique powers? At all?" Angeline probed. She pulled out a wand (to Artemis it simply looked like a stick), waved it a few times, and the scroll Artemis was holding rolled itself back up, the ribbon on the table tied back into a knot over the scroll, and the parchment zoomed into her hand.

Artemis started, and it seemed as if he would say no, but then, "You mean like moving things without touching them? Changing them, or making them vanish? Occasionally setting them on fire? Controlling animals? Making bad things happen every time I am annoyed?" With each statement, Angeline's smile became bigger and bigger. Butler couldn't help but smile a little, himself. It was the first time he had heard Artemis speak in something other than complete sentences.

"Yes, yes! Oh, you awful child, why didn't you tell us before?" she asked.

Artemis was silent for what seemed like eternity. Then, he spoke. "I…I did not know. I thought it was special, that I was the only one. I was a bit afraid of it, I wanted to test it more. I kept it a secret…I was planning to show you and Father, but then he disappeared and I never…"

Angeline, as happy as she was before, now seemed crestfallen. Suddenly, Juliet broke in,

"Wait, what do you mean, you did all those things? I understand how you could have kept your little experiments secret, but what about the 'bad things happening when I'm annoyed' part? Surely, the way you're always going on about me all the time, I would have noticed!"

"Juliet…" Butler warned his younger sister.

"Ah, see, that was part of my…experiments. A Fowl always covers his tracks…those little accidents were not always accidents."

"Cheeky child. Just like your father," Angeline scolded, albeit good-naturedly. "You're very powerful, darling…to be able to conceal the magic from everyone and even control it at such a young age…though, looking at your other accomplishments, I'm not that surprised. For all these years, we thought that you didn't have magic…that you were a Squib. That's a non-magical child born to a magical family," she added, for her son's benefit.

"Speaking of Father, was he magical, too?" Artemis asked.

"Yes, he was, and your grandparents on both sides…everyone in both sides of the family is magical. That's what the wizarding world calls 'pure-bloods,' when you're descended from nothing but magic. I came from the Lestranges, another influential pure-blood family."

From the way Artemis twitched his nose, Butler could tell that he was slightly intrigued and disgusted at the same time. "Who came up with this labeling anyway? Magic is magic, does it really make a difference? Or does non-magical genetics somehow dilute the available power a wizard or witch has?"

Angeline smiled. "I can see you're on the right track of thinking there, my dear boy. Really, I don't think there's much of a difference; I've met very intelligent and powerful wizards and witches born to Muggles, the non-magical folk. That's one reason why I married your father. The Fowls are pure-blood, but they never cared much for this mania, unlike my side of the family. The Lestranges…they're stricter…more conservative…more supremacist."

"I suppose my maternal relatives will receive minimal contact from us, then," Artemis said.

"You don't need to worry about that, darling. Marrying a Fowl meant severing many ties with my family. They have been labeled as 'blood-traitors,' or people who support the rights of non-pureblooded wizards. Personally, I do not think the Fowls should be called that. They neither support or oppose these prejudices."

"I'm assuming, Mother, that the reason is because we are more concerned with our personal power and wealth," Artemis said, with a rather amused tone in his voice.

"True, true," Angeline said, smiling. "Always right, as usual. Unlike many other so-called 'blood-traitor' families, though, the Fowls are still respected in pureblood society because of our wealth."

"Indeed," was the response from Artemis.

* * *

><p>Artemis followed his mother through the twists and turns of the manor.<p>

Never before had he been as shocked as today. His powers ran in the family! While he was disappointed that he was not the only one in the universe to have magic, as it was called now, he was still relieved that he would be accepted without too much shock. And this new school…for magical folk, his mother had said. Artemis never shied away from information, but his brain was ready to explode from this days intake!

Speaking of which, he had been so stunned by the revelation that he never bothered to ask, "Butler, are you and Juliet magical, as well?"

To which his bodyguard responded, "No, we are not. But we have been trusted with serving the Fowls all the same. The pure-bloods know us well enough to not look down upon us despite the fact that we are Muggles."

Artemis assumed "Muggle" meant non-magical humans. He didn't have to be a genius to see why the Butlers commanded respect of people who would otherwise look down upon them.

His mother was reading through the letter again. "Hmmm…" she mumbled. "We already have these…and these…but he needs the rest of these anyway…I shall have to make a list." Artemis looked up and saw she was looking at the supplies list, and was making circles and check marks with her wand.

They finally stopped in front of a supposedly plain wall, but then, Angeline drew her wand and tapped the portrait of Hugo de Fole, who turned and stared at Artemis, blue eyes boring through him as he had done to so many others. He opened his mouth and said, "Password?"

Artemis did not need to ask. "Aurum est potestas."


	3. The Founder

The portrait smiled a crooked, vampire smile that was so similar to that of Artemis' own, swung open.

"There's others, too…your grandfather, your great-uncle, even those on my side of the family, although they are not in this house…all of your ancestors have moving portraits," Angeline said.

"I supposed you moved them all into this vault? To keep me from knowing, in case I didn't have magic?" Artemis asked, as he, his mother, Butler, and Juliet walked into the vault. It had been magically enlarged to hold all of the magical artifacts the Fowls owned.

"And also to keep it a secret from any pureblood supremacist supporters of the Dark Lord."

"There's a Dark Lord now, too?" Artemis suddenly became frosty. Someone like that would push back his power and potential…

"There's no worry about that for now, Artemis," Angeline said. "He was defeated before you even turned one. He was a pure-blood supremacist, like the Lestranges, only this time he actually went out of his way to exterminate all of those 'unworthy' of magic. He also killed the pure-bloods and other wizards who opposed him. It was a nasty war, too, because he was a powerful and intelligent man, and his minions, the Death Eaters, were as ruthless and cruel as he, though not as smart.

"Eventually, though, he tried to kill a baby named Harry Potter. Somehow, the curse he used backfired, and he was blasted apart. Many believe him dead. Personally, I think that he had back-up plans to prevent his demise, to make sure that he wouldn't die. It's what an evil, power-hungry madman does…"

"Which side were you and Father on?" Artemis asked, his voice sounding curious, but his eyes more accusing than anything.

"The Fowls were neutral, but they leaned toward the side opposing the Dark Lord. Really, as much as I love your Father, I don't think it was for the good of the people. I think it just wounded his pride, that if the Dark Lord won, he would be forced to bow to that man, and give up his riches and time serving him," Angeline said, a hollow smile gracing her features. "He and I were one of the few Slytherin exceptions, besides Andromeda Black, who married a Muggle-born wizard. That was a nice scandal."

Artemis cocked an eyebrow. "A Slytherin?"

"Well, Salazar Slytherin, a founder of Hogwarts, the magical school of Britain, is considered a good man. However, he is criticized for his past behavior, as he did not want to allow muggle-borns into Hogwarts. This was back in the medieval times, when wizards and witches were persecuted, so I don't blame him for not trusting descendants of the 'enemy,' so to speak, but it caused a rather nasty falling-out between him and the rest of the founders, upon which he left the school. Even now, there's still a line between Slytherin House and the others.

"It didn't help that the pureblood mania carried on through the generations, so nearly all of the pureblood supremacist children ended up in Slytherin House and joined V-V-Voldemort as dark witches and wizards under his reign. That's the name of the Dark Lord…don't say it too often, though. He himself was a Slytherin, and now that House is regarded as where all the evil people come out of."

"Why shouldn't we say it? Fear of a name is a foolish thing."

"True, but not everyone is as intelligent as you, darling. Besides, during that time, saying the name was equivalent to death – if you were heard, the supporters of Lord Voldemort, the Death Eaters, would come and attack your house and relatives."

"What are the other Houses?" Artemis inquired. There was so much he did not know!

"Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff, named after founders Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Helga Hufflepuff, respectively. Basically, Hogwarts students are sorted into these houses according to their personalities and strengths. Here," Angeline said, handing him a book, that was old, but still in perfect condition. "It's _Hogwarts, __a __History_. I think you'll enjoy reading this and drawing your own conclusions better than listening to me babble. Oh, and others: _A __History __of __Magic, __Wizarding __Society, __Magical __Law, __Procedures, __and __Enforcement, _and _Quidditch __Through __the __Ages_. All you need to know about your world, before I show it to you next week."

"Are there…hidden wizarding communities in cities, just like this vault in our house?" Artemis asked.

"Yes. There are several in Ireland, there's Hogsmeade, in Scotland, near Hogwarts, and there's Diagon Alley, in London, which is where we'll go to buy your school supplies. We could just go to the city near Tara, but I trust Ollivander to make you a good wand more than anything," Angeline said. "In the meantime, you should read up on the wizarding world. I'm sorry I was not there to explain things more clearly to you over time," she said sadly, "but I hope it won't be too much trouble, would it?"

"No, mother. I am perfectly capable. In fact, I think this way is more of a pleasant surprise. If I grew up with wizardry, I wouldn't have been able to appreciate the beauty of Muggle electronics."

Angeline laughed. "True. Your Father, like many Fowls, was a liaison between the Muggle and Wizarding world, and neither he nor I could make head or tail of those queer computers you've filled the house with."

Artemis walked around the room, looking at all the books on magic, the animate trinkets, the jewelry with the Fowl crest on it…for the first time in his life, he felt wonderful, giddy with excitement. "Actually, mother," he said, "forget about going to Diagon Alley next week. I'll finish all those books by today, and we can go tomorrow. The children who grew up in a wizarding family will have a slight advantage over me because they're more used to the idea of magic, and I must catch up over the summer if I want to succeed," he gushed. (Actually, he was just…enthusiastically presenting his logic, because Fowls did not _gush_).

Angeline grinned. "My son, always competitive for knowledge and striving for the best. Very well, then. We'll leave for London tomorrow. Butler, Juliet, would you like to come?"

"No thank you, Lady Fowl. I've had enough of the stares from people who, for some reason, always wonder what a Muggle is doing in Diagon Alley," Butler said. "Besides, someone needs to mind the house, and it's unfair that Juliet has to stay home alone."

"Very well. Don't worry, I'm an armed witch!" Angeline joked, waving her wand as if she were shaking her finger at a naughty child.

Artemis rolled his eyes.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: For those of you who have wondered, Artemis doesn't know about Herpo the Foul...yet. He, like Harry, is aware of the ability, but not of its significance. That will come later, when he rescues his father, which I might put in the second installment of the series, where it is more important.**


	4. Welcome to Our World

To say Artemis Fowl was surprised when he stepped into Diagon Alley was a bit of an understatement.

His mother had dragged him through a less opulent part of London, past a small, crowded, smelly public house (to which Artemis had passionately protested, though silently, of course, because it would not do to look like a spoiled, fussy child), into an alley lined by a brick wall. There, she tapped her wand against a small brick that seemed more scratched an worn than the others (three from the bottom and two from the left, Artemis noted to himself). The brick wall suddenly shook, and a doorway appeared, with much rumbling and drama.

And Diagon Alley, the gateway to the wizarding world, was open to him at last.

It took all of Artemis' self-control not to stand in the middle of the street, gaping like a fish out of water. Instead, he straightened himself and followed his mother (who had robed herself in an odd but tasteful cloak and made him do the same) in a confident, carefree manner, as if he was used to seeing all of these sights. Angeline had, for the first time in a year, dressed up, and she looked quite pretty with her hair done and her face clear of the sloppy makeup she had worn during her bout of madness.

The city was bright, and shops lined the street, boasting about things like new cauldrons with thicker bottoms, and newt eyes for only 3 sickles a pound, and the Nimbus 2000, the new racing broom. Artemis remembered that first-years were not allowed their own brooms, which really did not affect him much, as he was not very enthusiastic about flying in anything except for a private jet, let alone play Quidditch (which sounded painful – that one match where all the possible fouls had been committed made the sport seem more forbidding than ice hockey).

A great building loomed in the distance, though the white marble gave it a regal rather than frightening appearance. Gringotts, the wizard bank, though, oddly, run by goblins. _Enter, stranger, but take heed…_ Artemis read through the whole poem. What fun he would have, trying to break into Gringotts, he thought. Although, he was certain that there would be many magical and physical barriers against this, or else the bank would not have been in business for so long. In the books, no one had ever successfully broken into the bank – well, there was one Mulch Diggums, but the information on him was sketchy and no one was sure if he ever got out again or if he was even real.

Angeline strode calmly into the main room, Artemis at her side. Almost immediately, a goblin hurried over to assist them, though before there was no goblin despite the long lines.

"Ms. Lestrange, or should I say, Mrs. Fowl, now? I have not seen you in a while. And this must be your son?" said the goblin, in what Artemis assumed was its "polite" voice, though it sounded more gravelly and hoarse than polite.

"Artemis Fowl the Second," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but even so, the Goblin, (Bogrod, the brass-plated name tag read), as well as several other clerks nearby, heard the name. Bogrod nodded, saying to Lady Fowl, "Takes after his father in both looks and manners, doesn't he? You must have taught him well."

The goblin led them down into the vaults, continuing, "Ah, the Fowls, such old, reliable customers. Intelligent, they are, one of the few wizards who respect the Goblins here." _Because we hold your_ _wealth_, was the unspoken line, but Artemis could live with that. Goblins had no use for wizard money, when they had their own powers of metalworking and wealth.

After Angeline and Artemis had exited Gringotts with their withdrawal, Angeline said to her son, "The Fowls and Gringotts bank goblins have been allied for many centuries. Mainly in the financial area, but they also interested your father, and grandfather, et cetera, because they are a separate species just as intelligent as the wizards. Unlike the pureblood fanatics, the Fowls were actually intelligent enough to treat them as equals, once again, for personal benefit rather than the goodness of their hearts, but it's a step in the right direction nonetheless. It's why I joined their ranks," she said, half joking, half serious.

"Great minds think alike," Artemis said softly, as they headed into Flourish and Blotts, a seemingly normal bookstore until one saw the inside, which was larger than the outside, to accommodate the vast collection of stories, references, and newspapers for sale. He never underestimated anyone, even if they were of a different species. Artemis purchased some schoolbooks, and also picked up a few other books that seemed interesting, turning them over to his mother in case the Fowl library already had them.

The same routine occurred as Artemis and his mother went from store to store, picking up supplies, with a few shopkeepers recognizing the name and behaving with a more exaggerated amount of respect (which both amused and annoyed Artemis at the same time). At least, when he was touring the book shop, he could pretend not to notice, as there were more interesting things to occupy his mind. Such as, _Five Greatest Magical Dark Beings of All Time_, which chronicled the lives of Herpo the Foul, Hecate the Sorceress, Morgana le Fay, The Dark Lord Grindelwald, and You-Know-Who, also known as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The apothecary was also interesting, but too unsanitary.

There was a short stop at Eeylop's Owl Emporium (at this point, Artemis noted that wizards seemed to have a tendency for odd names, which may have explained his own, incidentally), where he finally chose a rather cold-looking eagle owl named Hecate.

At Madam Malkin's robe shop, Artemis was rather surprised to see such a large selection of fashions for people whose main apparel were robes. He had never been interested in fashion much; he just knew quality suits when he saw them and wore them with dignity. The moving measuring tape slightly unnerved him somewhat, but he stilled himself and reminded him that this was magic, after all, and anything could happen. Even if the laws of physics protested vainly.

"And don't forget the silk trim on the ends…do they still offer that for the school robes?" Angeline was saying. Artemis had tuned out her prattle on fashions several minutes ago, and Madam Malkin was enthusiastically returning the conversation. Honestly, he did not care about the silk trim, because the suit that he would wear underneath the robe would say enough about his status.

"Yes, but no one ever buys it anymore. Such a shame. But really, Lady Fowl, you've been such a good customer, you might as well get it for free," Madam Malking simpered. Obviously, to get Lady Fowl to buy something else later.

"Oh, thank you. Well, I don't have much time now, so I will say farewell for now…my son still needs his wand. We saved this for the end of the trip, you see."

Artemis, simply glad that he no longer had to put up with the women's conversation and the measuring tape flying around his head, hopped off the stool a bit too eagerly than he normally would have and strolled casually to Ollivander's. He had been looking forward to this part of the trip most of all. Finally, he would have a definite object to channel his magic through. The magic he had been practicing alone would be useful in case he lost the wand, no doubt (though Artemis was very organized and would never simply lose something like that), but it was quite exhausting.

* * *

><p>Ollivander's was a small, musty, rickety shop that seemed that it would be about to fall in a gust of strong wind. It seemed quite empty and desolate, Artemis thought, as he looked around.<p>

Suddenly, a wizened old man appeared behind the counter, with a toothy smile on his face. "Well, what do we have here?"

Artemis was rather unnerved, as most people would be when creepy old men appear behind a counter with a toothy smile on their face, saying, "Well, what do we have here?" but unlike most people, he did not show it. "Artemis Fowl the Second," he said softly and authoritatively, as he had done with the other shopkeepers.

"Then this must be Angeline Lestrange, Lady Fowl, now, correct?" Angeline nodded. "I remember. Beech and phoenix feather, ten inches, nice and whippy."

"Do you remember all of your customers in such a way?" Artemis asked.

Ollivander smiled at him. "Artemis Fowl...well, Senior, anyways," he paused to chuckle, though there was nothing quite funny about that in his opinion, "Applewood and dragon heartstring, twelve and a half inches, quite firm. And Lord Hugo de Fole…he was a tricky customer. Oak and dragon heartstring, twelve inches exactly. Unyielding."

"How did you know Lord Hugo de Fole? Considering he lived in the 11th century," Artemis said, raising an eyebrow.

Ollivander smiled the toothy smile – more like a loony old man than Artemis' vampire smile, but still creepy. "My boy, I'm older than I look." And Ollivander looked quite old.

Suddenly, he snapped out of his apparent daze. "Well, no more dilly-dallying and chit-chat, we must find you a wand!" he wheezed. "What's your wand arm?" He pulled a box off the shelf.

Assuming he meant dominant arm, Artemis replied, "I'm ambidextrous, but I favor my left arm."

"Try this. Cherry and unicorn hair, eight-and-a-half inches, nice and springy. Give it a go."

Artemis pointed the wand nowhere in particular, still with his impassive, confident mask on, and flicked it. Immediately, the window shattered into billions of tiny bits, flying out into the street like tiny grains of sand.

"No, definitely not it." _Why thank you, Captain Obvious_, Artemis thought. Ollivander did not seem very disgruntled at all, though, as if he were used to windows exploding. "The wand chooses the wizard, my boy. You will know the right one when it comes to you."

"Ash and dragon heartstring, fourteen and a half inches." A small vase-stand burst into blue flames.

"Beech and phoenix feather, ten inches." One-third of the counter shattered.

"Hickory and phoenix feather, eleven inches." This time, it took a chunk out of the wall. Despite the fact that the shop was slowly getting destroyed, Ollivander did not seem fazed whatsoever. "Powerful little wizard, aren't you?" In fact, he seemed happier. "Tricky customer…I always like a challenge." _So do I_, Artemis thought, _as long as it doesn't involve collapsing buildings and destroying property, _he added sarcastically.

On, and on it went. Artemis wasn't even sure if Ollivander had a basis or a system he was trying out wands on. Pretty soon, every wand in the back wall had been used, and Artemis wrinkled his nose distastefully at the growing pile of discarded boxes and wands that the wandmaker had carelessly thrown aside once Artemis had rejected them (or had they rejected Artemis?) Soon, the side walls were empty and not one had chosen Artemis.

"Don't be disappointed…I have one last one that I have been saving, and I think it will be right for you."

Artemis hoped that it did. Even his mother seemed worried. But Ollivander simply smiled serenely.

"It's not made from the three main cores…Cypress and basilisk scale, thirteen inches. Precise. Herpo the Foul gave that scale to me…he had quite the gift of foresight."

Artemis took the wand and waved it once, resignedly, his arm already tired from exhausting the rest of the wand shop. To his surprise, the grip seemed colder…firmer…and yet more relaxed and fitting than the rest. Energy rushed through his body, and with a snap, everyone was showered in gold and blue sparks.

"Excellent, excellent!" Ollivander exclaimed, applauding. "That will be seven Galleons." The wandmaker then waved his own wand, returning the now half-destroyed store back to normal.

Angeline paid him and they walked off.

* * *

><p>"Mother, how does Ollivander remember all of those things about our family? It is almost as if he expected me to come today and looked up everything in the archives."<p>

"Darling, Ollivander is simply one of those people who know everything. He is one of the few people who can learn everything and keep it all a secret."

Much like himself, Artemis thought, toying with his wand. Cypress and basilisk scale, thirteen inches. It seemed so forbidding and yet so powerful at the same time.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hecate is the goddess of magic, witchcraft, necromancy, and crossroads, often associated with the goddess Artemis in Greek mythology. The cypress is also the tree of the goddess Artemis.**


	5. Onwards

Artemis walked along the train station with Butler, Mother, and Juliet (who had whined and pleaded until Mrs. Fowl let her go – which was five seconds), with everything carried by Butler, save for his wand and a book to keep him busy on the train ride. Considering all of the prior years, this was his best birthday yet, although he would never admit to enjoying something as trivial as a birthday.

Now that he thought about it, he would be the youngest person at Hogwarts. The system was based on who would turn eleven before the school year started. His birthday, being on September 1st, meant that he was the last child to scrape through for the year. Had he been born a day later, he would have been pushed back to the following year.

Over the summer, he had, not exactly crammed, but he did absorb all the knowledge he should have gotten over eleven years in a matter of two months.

He knew from wizard law that once one acquired a wand it was forbidden to perform magic outside of school until graduation, but Artemis feigned ignorance and practiced all of the spells in the year's curriculum as well as some more advanced spells of a more questionable nature, looked up in the Fowl library. After reading up on dueling, Artemis realized that performing nonverbal and wandless magic was actually quite important, and made a note to himself to brush up on those skills.

* * *

><p><em>Two months ago<em>

"Mother, I have never bothered to ask. If Father was actually a wizard, what did the Russian Mafiya want with him?"

Angeline froze, chewed her lip nervously, and finally relented. "It was not simply the Russian Mafiya…we suspect that a few supporters of You-Know-Who –"

"Voldemort," Artemis interrupted, rolling his eyes. Being frightened of a man was one thing, but not even saying the name was simply silly.

" – were still around, infiltrated the organization, and captured your father. They blamed the Fowls as part of the cause of…Voldemort's demise, and labeled the Fowls as traitors. They knew they could not directly attack the Fowls – that would be stupid," _Indeed, __it __would __be._"But making it look like a completely magic-unrelated tragedy would arouse less investigation from the magical government."

Artemis felt put-off that he had wasted so much money searching for his father through Muggle means this past year. "They're probably using magic to conceal him – why didn't anyone tell me?"

Angeline just shook her head sadly.

* * *

><p>Artemis knew that he would need outside help to find his father, now that there was a better idea of what and who he was up against. The men who captured his father probably had more magical training than he, and were somewhat intelligent. Artemis vowed to outsmart them in the end, but rushing in to save his father without a clue of where he was or advanced magical knowledge was highly foolish.<p>

He would not end up like another Antigone.

Like running at a barrier between two train platforms. Honestly, what wizard designed this method of transportation?

Artemis half expected an impending crash, but instead he stepped out into a new platform that was same in design as the rest, yet more clean, bright, and sunny – platform 9 ¾. Butler stepped in after him with the luggage. Artemis had much to bring – besides his school supplies, he had also some extraneous objects for, a lack of a better term, extracurricular experiments. After learning a space expansion charm, with much fussing from Angeline – "That's N.E.W.T. level!", Artemis had managed to fit everything into a decently small suitcase, which Butler was quite thankful for.

"I think I shall take Hecate on board," Artemis said. "It must be quite uncomfortable for her to be treated as a regular suitcase." Butler nodded and placed his young charge's items in the luggage compartment – triple locked with a password for each lock, as well as some nasty hexes, making the man wonder what exactly Artemis had in there and how he looked up all of that without Angeline throwing a fit. Most likely the boy was just paranoid about his things. And he probably didn't tell his mother anything, either. Master Artemis, always two steps ahead.

With that, he bade Butler farewell, and was engulfed in a hug by the two ladies in the family. "Oh, Arty, I'll miss you so much. Be careful! Don't forget to write!" " – don't blow anything up, either!" (That was from Juliet.) Was it a habit of women to become so clingy any time their offspring would leave for barely any time at all? Apparently yes.

After several more warnings and declarations of affection from his mother, Artemis finally managed to dislodge himself from her grip – she was stronger than she looked when it came to hugging her only son – and said, "I love you too, Mother. Now, please," he detached himself from her, "I must be off, or I'll miss the train." In reality, there were fifteen minutes left before departure, but that didn't matter.

* * *

><p>"I'll miss you so much!" A boy a few feet away was suffering the same problems of trying to escape a clingy mother. His face seemed just as annoyed and cold as that of Artemis, and highly resembled an older man who Artemis concluded to be the boy's father. He looked sternly at his son and gave him some advice: "Remember everything I told you." Good advice.<p>

"Do not forget to write me as soon as you are assigned your dorms! Tell me if anything happens, even if you just catch a small cold. They can get worse, you know, and people can die! And if you ever need anything, send an owl. I promise I'll send you sweets every week, and twice as many presents for your first Christmas at Hogwarts, and - "

The woman looked like a female version of her husband and son: tall, pale, with platinum blonde hair...the only thing that set her apart from the rest of the family was the lack of an arrogant, icy attitude. Judging from the style of her dress and the way she carried herself, however, she was probably the same type of snob when not dissolving into a lump of fat and tears over her son leaving.

They were obviously some sort of nobility in the wizarding community, because he distinctly heard something about "stay away from those filthy mudbloods that the senile old headmaster lets in," firmly ruling out the fact that they were from the muggle world.

"I _know_, mother! I will be perfectly fine!"

Despite this, the woman refused to let go of her son. She may have looked thin and weak, but she definitely had an iron grip when it came to her offspring.

"What is that?" Draco asked, pointing off into the distance. As his mother turned to look, he squirmed out of her grip and sprinted off to the train.

"Draco!" Narcissa whined, after realizing that she had been tricked. "Wait!" but her son had already reached the metallic red door and was now climbing the steps, and could not hear her over the machinery and the crowd (or perhaps he was just pretending and ignoring her on purpose).

"Leave him be," Lucius said. "He is growing up, you cannot spoil him forever. He must learn things and take care of himself."

Narcissa sniffled and made some minor protests along the lines of "my baby" and "I don't trust them to take care of him like I do."

* * *

><p>With a puff of smoke and a whistle, the train rumbled to life, and they sped to Hogwarts. For the first time in a long time, Artemis smiled, and it was not the vampire smile. There were no witnesses, however, as he was alone in the compartment with his nose buried in the book. Potions was the closest thing wizards had to chemistry, after all.<p>

Artemis was going to a supposedly nonexistent school in the middle of nowhere to learn magic. The very notion of it was absurd - he, a genius of all sorts, of biology and genetics, of thermodynamics and quantum physics...this should not have been possible. He should have been scoffing at the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

And yet, here he was. Artemis Fowl the Second. He was going to do all of the things that were impossibly childish and strange, yet he did not feel stupid or awkward in the least. Rather, he felt somehow natural, bubbly, and...not exactly happy, but content. He was a child prodigy; of course doing the impossible was his occupation.

He could feel the energy of magic course through his blood, and collect in his mind and heart, as if it was a part of his soul even, if such a thing existed (though with all of the abstract concepts he had read about in the wizarding world probably meant that a soul and spirit most likely did exist in some separate form).

It was then that Artemis felt that this was one of the highest points in his life, that things were going uphill - no, up _mountains..._his opportunity could grow in leaps and bounds. No one could stop him!

This was the (undocumented) best day of his life.

Unfortunately, he spoke too soon, for at that moment, the boy from earlier, along with two fat, large goons, burst into the compartment. "Well, what do we have here?" he drawled.

As if Artemis hadn't heard that phrase enough already from Ollivander.

* * *

><p><strong>(AN: Artemis did his shopping in early July, which is why they have not encountered Harry or Draco before this.)**

**Antigone reference: Sophocles' most famous Greek tragedy. Antigone decided to go against her uncle, King Kreon (or Creon, depending on the translator) of Thebes, to bury her brother, Polyneices, who Kreon considered a traitor to the city. According to Greek religion, if Polyneices was not buried, his soul would be condemned to wander the earth forever. She knew it was dangerous but broke the law anyway, out of love for her brother, and died as a result. **

**Artemis, of course, cares enough for his family to break the law and take some risks, but he values his own life.**


	6. First Impressions

The boy had slicked back, platinum blond hair, almost as pale as his face, with stony grey eyes, a pointed, elfin chin, and a smirk that was as annoying as Artemis' smirk was unnerving. Which he greeted the boy with.

"Artemis Fowl the Second," he drawled, accompanied with his trademark smile. Goodness gracious, he had been doing a lot of smiling lately.

"Fowl. Fowl. Where have I heard that name before?" the boy returned, in the same condescending tone.

"Wherever _you_ have heard the name before is probably the reason why I don't go there anymore," Artemis retorted. He reveled at the shocked look on the boy's face, until Blondie gave him a dirty scowl and stalked off, possibly to annoy other people.

That was when another boy showed up in his compartment. People seemed to enjoy visiting him. "Were you the one that just snarked Malfoy?"

"Oh, does Blondie have a name now? Funny, he never graced my presence with it before," Artemis said coldly. The other boy smiled.

"Despite his protests to the contrary, that snob really does have bad manners. His name is Draco Malfoy. The gorilla standing behind him is Gregory Goyle, and the bigger gorilla standing next to him was Vincent Crabbe. My name is Blaise Zabini, by the way."

"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Zabini. I am Artemis Fowl the Second."

Zabini's eyebrows traveled quite a distance up his forehead. "Really? Wow, I've never met a Fowl before. Are they as smart as the stories claim?"

"Smarter," Artemis said, smirking.

He and Blaise sat in the same compartment for the rest of the ride. The boy was certainly a welcome change from Malfoy's pompous attitude. Blaise was not as intelligent as he, but was still a good planner and a clever decision maker. He was not overly proud, as Malfoy had been, but he was not annoyingly shy, either – all in all, pleasant company, and a good acquaintance.

"What are your views on this entire…magical blood fiasco?"

Blaise looked pensive. "I don't think it matters much, really. I mean, muggle-borns have more of a disadvantage because they never had prior experience with magic, and they're more likely to accidentally give away the wizarding world when demonstrating to their relatives and such, but after the entire you-know-who incident no one really cares anymore."

"That would be the logical decision. Frankly, I care more about the genetics than status."

Blaise, having no knowledge of genetics, asked Artemis to explain. It took quite a bit of time out of Artemis' reading, but somehow Artemis did not mind. He was amused, that, with all of this magic, wizards never bothered to expand into the sciences like Muggles. He would soon have to change that.

"All of this pure-blood mania would probably dilute magical power, come to think of it. People are so intent on keeping their bloodline pure that they have begun marrying distant relatives and cousins, which may repeat dangerous recessive genes and non-magical DNA. If they keep this up, soon all of the purebloods will end up deformed like the royal families of Europe."

Blaise seemed genuinely interested. "Wow, are you serious? I'd like to see a Malfoy deformed."

"It does not necessarily mean physical abnormalities. In many cases, genetically inherited mental illnesses are also a result of too much inbreeding," Artemis said.

"Well, then, that explains a lot of purebloods that I know," Blaise laughed.

Just then, a rather bushy-haired girl with rather large front teeth popped in, flanked by a young, round-faced boy with a mess of dirty blond hair and a nervous look on his face. "Excuse me, have you seen a toad? Neville here has lost his."

"No, and if I did see a toad, it would not be on this train any longer," Artemis said. While reptiles were bearable, he did not particularly care for slimy amphibians. He heard Blaise snicker next to him.

"Well! That was rude! Apologize to Neville, right now!" Ah, so the girl was bossy, too. And the boy that lost the toad looked ready to cry.

"I apologize for telling the truth," Artemis said.

At that point, the boy did cry, and ran away, with the girl following him and sending a nasty glare. "I bet that kid will go into Hufflepuff," Blaise said, still laughing.

Probably. Artemis decided to ask, "Where are you hoping to end up, given the choice?"

"Me? I'd like Slytherin, but Ravenclaw would not be terrible, either. The Hufflepuffs are a bunch of losers who don't fit anywhere else, and the Gryffindors are too outlandish and reckless for my taste. What about you, Artemis?"

"Personally, I would agree with you. I simply dislike the notion of being regarded as an evil, dark wizard in training simply due to the stereotypically bad reputation of Slytherin House."

"Well, some things can't be helped. But it's only that way because of You-Know-Who and the last generation. I think that if the Slytherins this year all become nice, socially useful people, the stigma can die down," Blaise said.

"Hopefully. But bad marks tend to disappear more slowly than the good. Many of the Slytherin families who were not 'evil' as one would term were pushed aside as exceptions while the main body was regarded as such," Artemis said.

"True. It sucks. But it's also worth it, because Slytherin really is the best house. Even though that last flux produced a bunch of nasty people, the house has also yielded some of the most successful as well. It's all a matter of where your ambition points," Blaise responded.

"It's a shame the rest of the community seems to ignore that," Artemis stated plainly.

"Speaking of Houses, weren't the Fowls pretty much all Slytherins as well? The wizarding community hasn't heard much about you guys as of late. Normally, when an heir to one of the pureblood families is born, everyone in the inner circles of society knows about it," Blaise said.

"We have been rather secretive for some time," Artemis agreed uncomfortably. So, his parents kept him a secret from the entire world, to protect him? Or were they ashamed of him? At any rate, no one would know that they thought he was a squib. That would be awful.

"The Fowl family is not that extended," he chose to explain. "Due to our quite neutral beliefs, many of the other families have cut ties with their offspring that intermarried into our line, such as my mother, for instance. Even if that had not been the case, the Fowls make sure to produce only one heir each generation so that the wealth does not need to be divided. If no one has heard about a Fowl attending Hogwarts for the past thirty years, it would make sense."

"Yes, well, that's true. You know, I never even heard of your name and existence before, until now, and if it hadn't been for your appearances...you know, dark hair, blue eyes, suit to kill, all that?...I would have thought that you were lying about being a Fowl," Blaise said.

"Had I been lying, no one would have been able to distinguish the truth," Artemis said.

Blaise laughed. "That's funny. Tell me, are all Fowls like this?"

Artemis thought of his father, who had been the one to teach him how to lie so well in the first place.

"Indubitably."

* * *

><p>"Firs' years over here!" a voice boomed in the distance. Artemis' head snapped to the source of the noise, and noticed a large, hairy man, taller and larger than Butler, even. He held a small lantern, which was quite useless as his enormous shadow was blocking the majority of light being emitted. Artemis frowned at an array of rickety rowboats arranged at the edge of the lake. "Please don't tell me we are getting into those suspiciously unstable objects," he murmured under his breath.<p>

No such luck. Instead of traveling up to the castle like the upper years did, it was apparently "tradition" for the newest members of Britain's magical community to cross the Great Lake (the lake was actually surrounding the school like a moat - quite fitting, for it was housed in a medieval castle) in those tiny wooden structures that were not supposed to be floating considering their poor design. Artemis assumed that the boats were simply placed there since who-knows-what era (several centuries ago, at the very least), and the only thing keeping them afloat now was magic.

"Hey, you there, is this your toad?" the giant boomed again.

"Trevor!" the round-faced boy from the train squealed, grabbing at his lost pet, to the amusement of many.

Artemis and Blaise picked their way around the haggle of children, and eventually found a boat that looked somewhat newer and smoother than the rest (mind you, only somewhat), boarding with great caution. "Four to a boat!" the giant boomed, luckily, as Malfoy and his gang stopped next to the boat. ("Four to a boat!" the giant said! As if any more could fit!)

"I'm afraid you'll sink our ship, Draco," Blaise said. "Crabbe and Goyle can stay, though." Blaise could really be cruel when he wanted.

Malfoy glared and took another boat, along with his cronies. The two empty spots were instead filled by two twin Indian girls, so the ride up to the castle was thankfully quiet.

Hogwarts seemed a magnificent place, even if it was extremely old fashioned. Almost immediately, the doors swung open upon the first years' arrival, and they were greeted by moving portraits and animate suits of armor. "Here they are, Professor," giant-man said to a rather austere looking woman in a pointed hat.

"Thank you, Hagrid," she said, in a tight lipped, Scottish accent. She faced the rest of the first-years and began outlining rules, which Artemis stopped listening to after two seconds, as did most of the crowd of eager eleven-year-olds. While the others were simply impatient, Artemis was actually not listening because he was not a supporter of following rules. They couldn't "blame" him if he did not know... " – Sorted," she finished.

"I heard we had to fight a troll!" a red-haired kid whispered. Artemis and Blaise both rolled their eyes. That was utterly ridiculous. As if they could get a troll into the Great Hall in the first place.

They had been waiting for what seemed like an eternity, and the only thing that was keeping them awake was a short intermission from the ghosts (resulting in a lot of screaming from people who had never seen the translucent beings before) and an extremely annoying poltergeist named Peeves.

"Ooooh, ickle firsties, what fun!" Artemis wrinkled his nose at being referred to in such a collectively derogatory term.

"That would be Peeves, our resident spirit of chaos," said a man. "My name is Nearly Headless Nick, ghost of Gryffindor House."

"Are these the new recruits?" A plump, cheerful looking man passed through the door. "Well, I hope you're all sorted into Hufflepuff, then! That was my house, and still is to this very day!" Blaise snickered beside him.

Peeves turned a somersault in the air and blew a raspberry. His antics and outlandish clothing were giving Artemis a headache.

"That would be the Fat Friar, ghost of Hufflepuff," Nearly Headless Nick explained. "All of the houses have a resident guardian ghost. The Grey Lady is the ghost of Ravenclaw Tower. On the other hand, don't worry about Peeves too much. He is aggravating, but he means no harm. If he gives you too much trouble, the only one who can actually control him is the Bloody Baron."

"The Bloody Baron?" someone asked.

"Ghost of Slytherin House." Nearly Headless Nick seemed to make a face at this, although it was difficult to tell because he was nearly transparent and floating at least three feet above their heads.

Peeves giggled, zoomed over the students, and dropped a pile of canes on the head of the poor round-faced boy that had lost his toad on the train. "Peeves, don't make me call the Bloody Baron on you!" Nearly Headless Nick yelled.

The little man simply laughed, blew another raspberry, and zoomed off, possibly to wreak more havoc. Artemis made a mental note to avoid him whenever possible.

"We've been trying to get rid of Peeves for ages, but he comes with the buildling. All of us ghosts are against giving him any more chances - he always ruins everything and gives us a bad name," the Gryffindor ghost sighed exasperatedly.

Just then, the doors swung open, and Professor McGonagall returned with a scroll in her hand, and with a nod of her head, she beckoned the crowd of children into the Great Hall for the first time.

The Sorting ceremony was about to commence.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Major foreshadowing in some parts there. If you've already read the books you can pretty much guess where. The past chapters have been a bit short, so I tried to make this one a little bit longer to compensate without trying to have it sound like rambling.**

**We'll find out where the Sorting Hat deems fit to place Artemis, next time in King of Serpents. **


	7. The Sorting

"Look, it's the Sorting Hat!" Blaise said.

The Sorting Hat did not seem too impressive at first. It was simply a pointed cap, like the stereotypical witch hat from fairy tales, sitting on a rickety stool at the front of the Great Hall. Artemis looked at it, trying to determine how it worked.

Obviously, one would have to put it on, but how was the hat going to determine what the best House was when all it had was a nervous eleven-year-old sitting underneath it?

Before Artemis could ponder further, however, a large slit opened up in the Sorting Hat's mouth (wizards could come up with such _creative_ names) and the ratty, dusty piece of cloth began croaking out a song:

_Oh you may not think I'm pretty,  
>But don't judge on what you see,<br>I'll eat myself if you can find  
>A smarter hat than me.<em>

_You can keep your bowlers black,_  
><em>Your top hats sleek and tall,<em>  
><em>For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat<em>  
><em>And I can cap them all.<em>

_There's nothing hidden in your head_  
><em>The Sorting Hat can't see,<em>  
><em>So try me on and I will tell you<em>  
><em>Where you ought to be.<em>

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_  
><em>Where dwell the brave at heart,<em>  
><em>Their daring, nerve, and chivalry<em>  
><em>Set Gryffindors apart;<em>

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_  
><em>Where they are just and loyal,<em>  
><em>Those patient Hufflepuffs are true<em>  
><em>And unafraid of toil;<em>

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_  
><em>if you've a ready mind,<em>  
><em>Where those of wit and learning,<em>  
><em>Will always find their kind;<em>

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_  
><em>You'll make your real friends,<em>  
><em>Those cunning folks use any means<em>  
><em>To achieve their ends.<em>

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_  
><em>And don't get in a flap!<em>  
><em>You're in safe hands (though I have none)<em>  
><em>For I'm a Thinking Cap!<em>

The hat must have spent the entire year thinking up the song, Artemis thought. It was not the best poem, but for a hat, that was decent rhyming.

"Abbott, Hannah!"

The first girl was called up to the stage. Nervously, she sat down upon the rickety stool, and Professor McGonagall, as she had introduced herself, dropped the ratty, old hat upon her head. Artemis noticed that she was trying to hide her nervousness – she was wringing her hands, crossing her feet, biting her lip, and then realized what she was doing before stopping, only to pick up the cycle again.

Her eyes twitched upward, and Artemis realized that the hat was talking to her – inside her head, maybe? She could obviously hear something, but no one else could, and the hat certainly wasn't moving.

Finally, the slit opened again, and the Sorting Hat yelled, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

And down the list, by alphabetical order of last name, it went. "Bones, Susan" was sentenced to wear black and yellow for the next seven years, "Boot, Terry," and "Brocklehurst, Mandy" were dispatched to Ravenclaw, "Brown, Lavender" went to Gryffindor, and a girl that looked like the female version of Malfoy's goons ("Bulstrode, Millicent!") was banished to the Slytherin table at the far end.

"Corner, Michael!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Cornfoot, Stephen!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Crabbe, Vincent!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

Artemis groaned. Malfoy and his goons were going to Slytherin…considering the reputation of his family and that house, he probably would end up there too. Then again, Blaise seemed like a Slytherin himself, so it wouldn't be too bad. Or perhaps he could go to Ravenclaw, for the intellect. He laughed at the mental image of Juliet and Mother, fussing over how the blue colors of the house would match his eyes.

"Davis, Tracey!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Dunbar, Fay!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Entwhistle, Kevin!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Finnigan, Seamus!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Fowl, Artemis!"

All of a sudden Artemis felt rather self-conscious as everyone in the Great Hall seemed to look at him. Actually, that was not far from the truth, as many people, Muggle-born and pureblood alike, were familiar with the name. Straightening his back, he strode calmly up to the stool, and sat down, folding his hands politely, his eyes fixed in a challenging, calculating stare.

"_Interesting…I have not seen such a great mind in over fifty years…" _a hoarse voice whispered. **(A/N: Guess who the other great mind fifty years ago was?)** _"Such knowledge and wisdom…you know your strategy…quite a logical being for someone so young, though you have much to learn…" _Which is why I am here. _"But perhaps Ravenclaw is not right for you…true, you desire knowledge, but so much more than that…" _Well, that was true.

"_But there is bravery in your heart as well, more so than you think. Perhaps not now, but you are willing to defend what and who you care for…"_ Strange, he had never considered himself brave, unless the air of confidence and bravado that accompanied him counted.

"_Loyalty and kindness would do you well. Then again, you are only loyal and kind to yourself, your family, and those who do you benefit…maybe not there…"_ Artemis' heart lurched at the thought of his father.

"_And you are quite ruthless and cunning, clever beyond your age, experienced and worldly…not to mention your gift would do Salazar Slytherin proud…"_ Gift? What gift?

"_For someone so aware and intellectual you have a rather naïve understanding of yourself. I hope that you shall retain at the very least this bit of innocence for as long as possible, compared to what you have lost…" _Now, that was ridiculous. He was seriously considering setting the Sorting Hat on fire, but doing so while it was still on his head was idiotic –

Artemis went to the Slytherin table.

* * *

><p>The Sorting Ceremony finally closed, as he watched the bushy haired girl, ("Granger, Hermione!") and the round-faced Neville Longbottom join the Gryffindors, while Malfoy was sorted into "SLYTHERIN!" a nanosecond after the Hat had touched his head.<p>

The ceremony must have been boring for the seventh years, who had to endure this for six years (it was only ever exciting for the few minutes that one first-year was up there), had it not been for a certain "Potter, Harry!"

The effect was immediate, as the crowd grew silent, and Artemis remembered that this was the child who vanquished Lord Voldemort, with the scar to prove it. He didn't seem so special – a scrawny, undersized child with a black mop of hair on his head and round, scratched-looking glasses. Whispers passed through the crowd ("_The_ Harry Potter?") and Artemis could tell that the kid was nervous. He obviously was not used to the fame, and for a moment, Artemis pitied the kid. Losing his parents, and then having people stare at you like some celebrity, piling expectation after expectation on your shoulders. No, Artemis preferred to sit in the shadows, observing people go by like a hawk, and making his profits behind the curtain.

The silence was deafening, as the Hat decided, and Harry was mumbling something under his breath. Reading his lips, Artemis realized that he was saying, "Not Slytherin, please, not Slytherin." Well, he could understand why the kid would say something like that, given the reputation of the house and the wizard (and minions) that came from it. Or maybe he had met Malfoy on the train as well.

Better be, "GRYFFINDOR!" then. Artemis stilled himself against the deafening cheers that were sure to come – the Gryffindor table was already loud and raucous enough as it was. Sure enough, the entire table exploded into whoops and celebration, with Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw table applauding politely, and the Slytherins, Artemis noticed with amusement, tapping their fingers together morosely.

Now that "Potter, Harry!" was sorted, no one seemed to pay attention much to any kid who came after him in the alphabet. "Zabini, Blaise!" was finally ordered to the Slytherin table, wrapping up the entire process. The headmaster of Hogwarts, an ancient, Merlin-esque figure, stood, gave a ridiculously short speech ("Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"), and food appeared for the welcoming feast.

"Welcome to Slytherin, home of Hogwarts' finest!" A large boy clapped him on the back in a "friendly" manner, nearly causing Artemis to drop his piece of roast pheasant. Annoyed, he snapped, "Then why are you here?"

The table howled with laughter, catcalls and jeers of "He got you there, Flint!", resounding. Flint looked quite disgruntled.

Blaise, eager to change the topic, said, "Headmaster Dumbledore is a bit of an oddball, isn't he?"

"If his opening speech was anything to base my evidence on, yes. Yes he is," Artemis responded, casually ignoring the still offended Marcus Flint.

"Father thinks he is mad. Personally…" Artemis drowned out the rest of Malfoy's speech. He did not particularly care what Malfoy or his father had to say. From the way Blaise's dark eyes slowly went blank and focused somewhere else, Artemis could tell that Blaise was not impressed with anything Malfoy had to say, either. It was a different story for some other newly Sorted Slytherins, though, especially the goons and the girls, who seemed extremely interested.

" – Professor Snape should become the headmaster instead. God knows he'd do better than that Muggle-lover excuse for a headmaster."

Blaise rolled his eyes and directed his gaze toward a nervous looking fellow in a turban. "That must be our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," he said. "Apparently, the position is cursed – we've never been able to keep a teacher longer than a year. Something always happens, and they have to leave."

Next to him was an severe looking man with a hooked nose and long, stringy, black hair. That must be Professor Snape, the head of Slytherin House. Artemis hoped that he would be as organized in authority as in his appearance. He was sallow and cold looking, with sunken eyes, and a no-nonsense frown plastered to his face. Professor Turban next to him was practically shaking in his chair.

* * *

><p>It was late when the feast ended. Professor Dumbledore stood, and this time, he actually gave a serious speech. Artemis was quite entertained with the way he could switch between a friendly grandfather and a serious mother so quickly. He warned the school about the Forbidden Forest and the third-floor corridor, which was a stupid thing to do, in Artemis' opinion, because it meant that there would now be a bunch of curious wanderers trying to sneak into places they were not supposed to sneak into. The table of teachers especially eyed a pair of red-headed twins at the Gryffindor table, both of whom sported identical, mischievous grins.<p>

The benches creaked as they were pushed back, and the students filed out of the Great Hall in groups to their dormitories.

The first day of class loomed upon them like a dark tomorrow.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: By the way, thank you to ForgottenStory for being my lovely beta for this series. You've been a great help; I really appreciate it :)**


	8. From Day One

Artemis followed the group of prefects dressed in green and silver down to the Slytherin dungeons. From there, they were greeted by Professor Snape, who loomed over the first-years like a great bat.

"I am Professor Snape, head of Slytherin House, and these are your prefects. If you had half a brain, you would have deduced that already, and understood that you shall respond to them, as well as other teachers and I, in case of trouble, receiving or causing," he said, stressing the last word as his dark eyes swept over the crowd.

"Slytherin House is home of the cunning and intelligent. If you are cunning and intelligent, you will know not to cause trouble and lose points and reputation for the rest of your house, or at least not get caught in the process.

"Prefects, I leave this to you." The man turned around and headed to his quarters in a sweeping motion, cloak billowing.

"And there you have Professor Snape. You only need to worry about him if you're NOT in Slytherin. He's strict, and he might give you detention if you are a total blockhead and piss him off," a male prefect said, eyeing Crabbe and Goyle, "but he won't ever take points from his own house."

Another prefect continued, "In Slytherin house, we stick together, mainly because all of the other houses hate us. We're the 'dark' side, apparently. You will, despite this, best everyone else in what we do, because we are Slytherins."

"Slytherin has won the Quidditch cup and House cup for the past seven years now. I expect all of you to carry on this streak."

"Be polite, and be wary of the teachers. McGonagall, for example, is strict but fair. Learn to read them all, or at least stick to someone you know will be successful if you are not."

"Set your priorities, manage your time, and be successful. As Slytherins, our ambition, drives us. We will not tolerate failure."

And so on, the prefects spoke in turn, outlining the rules and expectations for the new members of their house.

"Well that wraps things up. Males' dormitories are to the left, and the females' are to the right. If we catch anyone going in the wrong direction, purposely or accidentally, there shall be harsh consequences," the last prefect said, drawing out the word _consequences_ to make sure everyone understood. "Good night. Sleep well, don't stay up late, don't sneak out of bed. You'll need the sleep for the first day."

* * *

><p>Artemis was sharing a dormitory with Blaise, Nott, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. The good news was that everyone was too tired to insult each other anymore, and their belongings were already unpacked and laid out for them. The bad news was that Malfoy definitely would not be tired tomorrow morning.<p>

Artemis was an early riser (except when he became caught up in his work and pulled an all-nighter). He woke up, probably before the sun had risen, although it was somewhat difficult to tell in the dungeons. Showering and putting on his school robes over a well-pressed suit, he meticulously combed his hair and put on a tie (which had somehow turned green-and-silver striped overnight, but that was not a problem) and exited the bathroom to find a rather sleepy and put-out Blaise.

"I hate morning people," he muttered. When he emerged, though he seemed less grumpy. "We should go to breakfast early," Artemis said, "and explore the classrooms. Being late on the first day definitely is not a start to a good year."

Zabini nodded in agreement, and they headed down to the Great Hall, which was pretty much empty. The quietness was quite nice, in Artemis' opinion. He wouldn't mind waking up early every day if it meant avoiding the noisy crowd.

The two boys had just finished their breakfast when some more students trickled in, half-awake. Artemis and Blaise stood, and left for the corridors. The two had found most of their classes and decided to return to the Great Hall, in case there was any news to be said.

On the way, they nearly collided head-on with a group of late risers sprinting down the stairs. "Watch where you're going!" one of them snarled.

"I was, but I averted my eyes when I saw your ugly face moving in my direction!" Blaise retorted. He was crude in his insults, but they were undeniably sharp and witty.

The other scowled, and pushed past them, muttering, "Stupid Slytherins. They're bad even as first-years."

Artemis laughed.

* * *

><p>Their first class was Transfiguration with the Hufflepuffs. After some tedious notes and a demonstration of turning furniture into farm animals and back again, they were given a pin to transfigure into a needle. On his first try, Artemis had completed the transfiguration, earning twenty points and a grin to Slytherin, and spent the rest of the class period turning the needle into other objects when McGonagall was not looking.<p>

Blaise, who was sitting next to Artemis, squeaked when a worm slid across the table to him. "Sorry," Artemis said, not sounding sorry at all, and turned the worm back into a pin as McGonagall turned around to chastise Malfoy, who was glaring at Artemis poisonously.

With many aggravated sighs and not-so-helpful hints from Artemis, Blaise had also managed to transfigure his pin before the period ended. No one else had been successful, and even the hardworking Hufflepuffs seemed defeated.

* * *

><p>Charms was slightly better, with the tiny Professor Flitwick squeaking instructions to them. "Wingardium Leviosa is the main levitating spell, and while there are several, more precise others, this is the most basic one today. All right, wands out!"<p>

The classroom was immediately filled with several different variations of the incantation. There were some very odd pronunciations, including a stress on the "a" in "Leviosa" and version where several vowels were said in the wrong place. Artemis noticed out of the corner of his eye one boy from another house brandishing his wand like a whip and sighed at the sheer ineptitude of his year-mates.

Unlike the rest, who were simply randomly guessing the proper method, Artemis knew that one had to mirror their wand movements and incantations exactly. Even in magic, there was subtle science and mathematics. The wizarding children really should have learned about those subjects before. Because of this, Artemis was again accomplished on his first try, and a feeling of subtle elatedness seemed to worm its way out of his heart as his eyes followed the feather, drifting up to the ceiling.

"Oh, excellent! Ten points to Slytherin, Mr. Fowl's done it!" exclaimed Flitwick happily.

Eventually, most of the class was successful, as charms with Flitwick was easier and more straightforward than the more obscure and calculatory art of transfiguration. Artemis noted to himself that depressingly, even though Charms was simply a matter of correct pronunciation and timing coupled with a simple wand movement, some people still did not manage to properly grasp that concept.

* * *

><p>Artemis was slightly knocked off his pedestal in Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures, however, and noted to himself that working with plants, animals, and wildlife in general would not be in his future career anytime soon. The classes required a greenhouse and working outdoors, respectively, both of which mean being exposed to the elements, mainly heat and sunlight, both of which did not suit Artemis well.<p>

He kept his face impassive, although his sluggish and overly delicate movements revealed his internal wincing. He was a pianist with perfectly manicured fingernails, and preferred not to dirty them in such a situation, no matter how important being able to properly identify and use the raw materials of life. Around him, the rest of the Slytherins, who had all had finer upbringings from noble families, had the same reaction, some expressing their disgust more keenly than others.

"This is disgusting. If my father ever heard about this…" Malfoy muttered, picking a grain of dirt out from under his nail and leaving the rest of the work to Crabbe and Goyle.

Though he disliked Malfoy, Artemis had to agree. He would rather just buy produce in already packaged and refined format, or use magic to take care of the goods properly, but Professor Sprout seemed quite adamant about keeping sparks away from the Venomous Tentacula and the magical creatures seemed skittish around wands.

* * *

><p>Defense Against the Dark Arts was annoying and boring, what with Professor Quirrell straightening his turban and stuttering over almost every word. The turban was a "g-g-gift" from an African "p-p-p-prince" for getting rid of some sort of monster that Artemis was only vaguely paying attention to. He had mentally drowned out the sentences ages ago, and while he understood each individual word, he could care less about the meaning of the sentence as a whole.<p>

Artemis was rather disappointed. He had been expecting so much more. The class was supposed to have been an interesting class to Artemis, as defense strategies and the Dark Arts both intrigued Artemis. He had spent so much time researching the topic, hoping to get a practical application or some sort of hands-on lesson that he could not receive at home, not some textbook lecture.

Defense was only useful if one knew how to properly put together everything they learned and used it in a sensible manner. Every situation was different. They should have been learning how to prepare for the worst, to act and think quickly, to be versatile, flexible, and creative in everything they did so that they would not be caught unaware, or if they did, to be fast enough to worm their way out of the situation.

Instead, he was forced to endure an hour of how "t-t-t-trolls" were "v-v-very dangerous!" and how old hags should be avoided at all costs. As if anyone with half a brain did not know that already. Quirrell's voice was already annoying and high-pitched enough without the stutter.

Apparently the poor man had had a bad experience with an old hag during his world travels the years following his graduation from Hogwarts. That was simply ridiculous, but Artemis would not waste his time or energy trying to even comprehend why that would be a problem.

* * *

><p>Potions with Professor Snape came next. Already, Artemis could tell that this class would be amusing. For some reason, Professor Snape seemed to despise Harry Potter, and deducted five points from Gryffindor, to the glee of many Slytherins. First, he fired a round of questions that were probably not in the first-semester curriculum at the poor boy, who obviously did not have a single clue what Professor Snape was even saying.<p>

That was too bad for Potter; he should have known what a bezoar was!

Granger, on the other hand, was bouncing up and down in her seat with her arm in the air. It was extremely comical, seeing her trying to prove she was the most intelligent by answering a bunch of textbook questions. He doubted she would be able to apply herself to thinking outside of the box.

The class ended quite eventfully, with Crabbe and Goyle destroying their cauldron, and Neville Longbottom, the boy who had lost his toad, making his potion explode, giving Professor Snape an excuse to deduct more points from Gryffindor. Of the entire class, Artemis, Blaise, Draco, Nott, and the bushy-haired girl from the train (Hermione Granger, was it?) were the only people to create a potion that Professor Snape deemed "passable." Of course, the first four were in Slytherin, so it was easier to create a potion that was "passable" in their teacher's eyes, but at least there were no accidents on their part and the potion accomplished its purpose.

This was a much-needed break from the other, duller classes. He would enjoy Hogwarts, at least, until tomorrow's flying lesson.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sorry for the delay in the update. New Year's was rather tiring.**


	9. First Flight

**A/N: This is just a really short sort of filler chapter, so I uploaded it a little bit earlier for you guys. The next real chapter should come out on schedule...**

* * *

><p>"Get down from there, right now!" the bushy-haired girl screeched.<p>

Artemis watched the scene unfold with interest. People were now crowding around the area, with their faces pointed toward the sky. Strangely, even as individuals, the human species was quite unified in their reactions.

It had all begun during that first flight lesson…

* * *

><p><em>A few minutes earlier<em>

"Place your hand over the broom and say, 'UP!'" Madam Hooch ordered.

The air was filled with sounds of students trying, and failing, to summon their broom. Upon closer inspection, the ones who had gotten it on their first try were the more confident ones, more used to flying. (Except for Potter - apparently, he had grown up with Muggles and had never had an ounce of magical education until now.) They commanded the broom, rather than just dictating the word. Artemis was not surprised that Malfoy was one of the few – his parents had probably spoiled him with a good broom years ago.

Summoning his confidence, Artemis also ordered the broom up, and after several tries, it finally complied. He winced as the wood of the handle came into contact with his hand, which was delicate from a life of light work and barely any exercise (unless you counted playing the piano and typing), and he certainly had no prior experience with cleaning supplies.

At least it was better than the redheaded Weasley boy - he had actually been hit right in the middle of the face as his broom went up, resulting in a perfectly straight red line running from the middle of his forehead, over the bridge of his nose, down to his chin, dividing his face into two (almost) completely symmetrical halves.

Finally, everyone managed to get a broom handle into his or her hand, and Madam Hooch went over the basics of kicking off and steering. "On three, when I blow this whistle..."

He was not going to enjoy this at all. Preferably, both of his feet would be planted firmly on the ground, and if he ever had to be lifted up into the air, it would be on a perfectly solid structure, or at the very least an airplane. (Hopefully it would be a quality jet like the private one the Fowls owned - for wizards, they certainly had a good taste in Muggle technology - and not some junk shuttle built from a questionable source).

* * *

><p>The lesson had barely started when Neville Longbottom fell and broke his wrist after kicking off the ground too early. Artemis could tell the poor boy would have a hard time with nerves in the years to come. After he had been taken to the hospital wing, Draco Malfoy had noticed the boy's abandoned Remembrall, upon which the other had seized it, to taunt him and the rest of the Gryffindors with.<p>

Frankly, none of it was Artemis' business, but when the ignoramus had kicked off the ground against Madam Hooch's instructions with the little glass orb, it would endanger Slytherin house as well. That would be at least fifty of his hard-earned points in class to a half-baked prank that was not even worth it. Or maybe Malfoy would just get expelled and make his life so much easier.

"She's right, both of you. Do you want to get yourselves killed?" Artemis asked.

"Potter here might die, but I am completely fine, thank you very much," Malfoy replied.

"I'm not talking about falling off the broom, I'm talking about how the rest of Slytherin house will turn against you once they realize you've just lost them fifty points. Or perhaps what your parents will do if you get expelled."

"They won't expel me!"

"But they'll take off points. Now get down to earth and try to be logical for once, or do I have to deflate your head for you?"

"And why should I listen to you?" Malfoy asked.

Clearly, this was not going anywhere. The only way to get Malfoy back down was to get the Remembrall…

"Relashio." Artemis may have not been a good shot ("Forgive me, sir, but you can't hit the backside of a stationary elephant," were Butler's exact words) but he was, as he realized, decent with his aim when it came to a wand. How that worked he was still attempting to understand. As the spell indicated, Malfoy's hand snapped backward, and the ball fell down to the ground, into Artemis' hands.

Artemis felt that he should have been at least slightly proud that he managed to catch a ball for once. Well, it fell into his hands, in actuality, but that didn't count! (_Stop trying to ruin my moment of greatness!_)

Scowling, Malfoy landed, along with Potter, and dismounted. "Why are you even defending that oaf anyway?"

"I'm not defending _anybody_ except…oh, everyone in our house? Why didn't you listen that first night? It was something about Slytherins not being complete blockheads, am I right?"

"Are you insinuating that I am a blockhead?"

"Considering your actions this past five minutes, yes."

Malfoy looked as if he was about to pull out his wand, but then Madam Hooch came back out to continue the lesson. "Professor! Neville's Remembrall –" Hermione started, about to tattle. Artemis cut in,

"– was dropped. We have it right here." Handing the object to Hermione, wiping the disgruntled look from being interrupted off her face and replacing it with a look of astonishment, "Please give it back to your friend, and tell him to at least take care of his items if he can't take care of a toad."

Taking it with a look of surprise, Granger was speechless.

Madam Hooch smiled. "Well, then, five points to Gryffindor and Slytherin each, for caring for a friend."

Malfoy looked like he was about to strangle someone.

* * *

><p>"Honestly, Malfoy, why are you always such a jerk?" Blaise asked one day, after Malfoy had tormented Potter about his parents yet again.<p>

"Why, are we defending ickle Potty now? Fowl's been corrupting you with his ideal principles, isn't he?

"No, I'm serious. Didn't your father teach you anything BESIDES being mean to people?"

Malfoy stiffened. "Don't talk about my father that way!"

"Then don't be an arse about every single little thing that people are doing! Don't you know when to stop? Haven't you ever heard of 'laissez-faire'?"

Artemis rolled his eyes and buried his nose deeper into the book. Theodore Nott, who had also been doing his homework quietly in the library with the rest of the Slytherin boys, did the same. Blaise was a tolerable person compared to Malfoy's arrogant attitude, but the bickering was getting ridiculous.

"I hate to say this, Malfoy, because you're my friend, but you ARE going a bit too far lately," Nott whispered.

"Oh, joining their side now, aren't you? Well –"

"Shut it, Malfoy. Like I said, don't you know when to stop? At this rate, you'll only have Crabbe and Goyle left, because they're too thick it even comprehend a word of the shit that's been spewing out of your mouth," Blaise retorted, earning him a dirty look from Madam Pince for swearing in the library.

"Will you lot stop bickering like immature children for two seconds? I would like to finish this tedious essay on goblin revolutions as soon as possible," Artemis snapped, getting annoyed. He glared at them and wondered if he could get away with casting _silencio_ on his acquaintances, as Madam Pince had turned around temporarily to shelve books. (He absolutely despised Professor Binns' class, because he made history boring. History was supposed to be something cherished.)

"I will if he stops," Blaise and Draco said at the same time. Another glare from Artemis sent them into silence again. Finally, Malfoy got up, and said, "I don't know what I'm doing with losers like you. Let's go, Nott," he said, slamming his books shut and throwing everything into his bag, not bothering to hide his bad temper.

"Sorry, Malfoy, I'd rather get this done," Nott said, unaware that Malfoy was not leaving the library for homework-related reasons. "No offense, but Artemis is the only person who doesn't fall asleep in history of magic and does a better job of helping me."

Malfoy scowled and turned away from the group. "Well, thanks, Nott. Like I need you anyway."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: As previously stated, next chapter should be up on Saturday. I hope. I might forget to upload it - but I'll write a sticky-note to make sure I don't forget! Ha! Take that, demons of forgetfulness!...ha...**


	10. Just Trolling

"Where's Malfoy?" was Nott's first question as they went through dinner. It was a legitimate question, as they had not seen the boy since he had walked off on them in the library.

"Who cares?" Zabini snorted. "Probably thinks he's too good to join us at dinner, anyway."

"Hopefully, spite has not driven him to do something stupid," Artemis muttered. While he cared about himself, he also cared about the state of his House. After all, that was what he was representing, and vice versa. He did not need some self-important, arrogant bully to ruin that.

"Well, his loss. This Halloween feast is magnificent," Nott said. Indeed, the Great Hall not only served delicious food that fit the season, but was also decorated tastefully, corresponding to both the Day of the Dead and Samhain. By far, a better choice than the tacky Muggle decorations Artemis had seen. Somehow, someone had actually found live bats to release in the Great Hall, but thankfully, all of them were roosting in a quiet corner-beam of the hall.

The discussion was halted, though, as the main doors slammed open, and Professor Quirrell rushed in, face red, breathing heavily, and looking ready to pass out at any moment. Professor Dumbledore cocked an eyebrow at the man, asking him what was wrong.

"TROLL! IN THE DUNGEONS!"

Here, the man actually swayed on the spot for a few seconds, before actually fainting, mumbling, "Thought you ought to know."

The Great Hall erupted into screams, and Artemis covered his ears, annoyed. Yes, he was concerned that there was a deadly monster rampaging through the castle. No, he was not stupid enough to lose his control and yell like a thoughtless maniac.

"SILENCE!" the headmaster roared, his old voice amazingly carrying through the awful din that had erupted. "Teachers, follow me and we shall investigate the troll. Prefects, lead the students to the dormitories." _Try not to trample poor Professor Quirrell,_ Artemis thought scathingly as he regarded the man, still prone on the floor of the Great Hall.

There was a creaking of benches and the students calmly filed out the door, reminiscent of the unrealistically perfect fire drills grade schools force their students to practice (because, really, who _calmly_ walks out of a building in case of fire? Artemis may have had self-control, but in case of fire, he would run out of the building as fast as he could like any logical human who valued his life. Maybe with Butler to help him).

A thought struck him. "There's a troll in the _dungeons_."

One of the prefects regarded him. "Yes, we are aware of that, genius." The students in his year looked at him curiously, expecting the prodigy to have said something more intelligent. Artemis rolled his eyes at his companions' idiocy.

"Don't you _understand_? The SLYTHERIN DORMITORIES are in the DUNGEONS!" he explained. Now that he thought of it, was Dumbledore trying to kill them all?

Everyone suddenly seemed startled at this realization. Mutters of, "What do we do now?", "We can't just stay here!", "We can't wander the castle aimlessly, either!", and "Oh, going to the dungeons, that's a _smart_ idea! Looking for trouble like Gryffindors, are we?" were heard through the mass of green-clad students.

Theodore Nott broke through his thoughts. "Wait, Malfoy isn't here! He might not know!"

"And your point is?" Zabini drawled.

"Are you really that heartless? He could get killed!"

"He wouldn't do the same for us!"

"Well, acting that way makes you as bad as he is!"

This seemed to sober Zabini up slightly. "Nott is right, Zabini. It's not exactly a matter of friendship or honor, but I would rather not have blood or a preventable death on my hands," Artemis said. He didn't particularly care for Malfoy, but he was not keen on the idea of death, either. Malfoy hadn't done anything deserving of exit by troll…yet.

"Wait!" Theodore yelled to the prefects. "Malfoy isn't here! He might not know about the troll!"

That stopped the prefects. "Oh, this just gets better and better," one of them muttered. "You'd think Slytherin House would be the easiest to keep track of." He turned to everyone. "Who has any idea where Malfoy is? I'd rather not have his father on our case, thanks."

Pansy Parkinson spoke up. "I think he's in the dormitories!" Zabini's normally tan face drained of all blood, and in a split second he was pale enough to rival Artemis.

"In that case," Artemis said calmly, though by now his insides were churning just as tumultuously as everyone else's, "we should all go to the dungeons anyway. All of us together will give a better chance against the troll, and the teachers are going there anyway as well." With that, they set off...to the dungeons.

* * *

><p>Arriving at the dormitories, a seventh-year prefect nearly kicked the wall down, yelling the password and barreling through the entrance to the common room, everyone else tumbling after. More frighteningly, though, was the fact that a thorough search of the Slytherin dormitories found no Draco Malfoy. "I swear, he was here!" Parkinson squeaked, flipping over couches for the umpteenth time.<p>

"You're not helping, Pansy," Eva Bole said. Her friend had an obvious crush on the blonde for reasons unknown.

"He can't have gone far, we didn't meet him on the way down," Nott said. "Search the rest of the dungeons!"

A low growl echoed through the stone corridors.

"What was that?" Pansy screamed. "What if that monster found Draco?" Without a second thought, she hopped out of the stone gate and ran in the direction of the noise.

"I swear, she's like a Gryffindor sometimes," Eva Bole muttered, and tore through the door after her friend.

Artemis watched in horror as Theodore Nott ran after them, along with Blaise Zabini.

In a manner very unbecoming of his character, he stepped out with the rest of the Slytherin first-years.

* * *

><p>The troll was indeed monstrous. "Why do trolls have to be so darn huge?" Zabini whined, ducking behind a pillar. The troll had passed the hallway in front of them, and though they were at least fifty meters away they could still estimate the size of the troll to be as tall as the arches – maybe taller, as the troll walked with a hunched back.<p>

"It's a mountain troll," Artemis said. "Of course it's huge."

"Thank you, Fowl, we can see that. Now why does it matter what species of troll it is?" Nott asked.

"Different species of troll have different weaknesses. Mountain trolls are protected by very thick skin, so normal spells would bounce off –" A strangled yell interrupted him.

"That sounded like Malfoy!" Parkinson screeched, but this time Eva held her back. "Pansy, you can't just jump in there, you don't know the first thing about trolls!"

"I do know that they're going to kill Draco if we just stand around here like pigeons!"

"Calm down, Pansy. If we find him first, we won't need to take down the troll."

With that in mind, the Slytherins slunk along the walls after the troll, Artemis feeling more and more foolish by the second.

* * *

><p>They found the troll at a dead end, and, oh-so-surprisingly, Draco in that corner.<p>

Draco looked ready to throw up and die at the same time. Given the stench of the troll, which was like dead dogs fed refried beans, and its hideous face, which was even worse close up, Artemis could see why.

Why do I feel that some greater deity is controlling this plot-line? Artemis thought. But they couldn't stop now, now that they knew for sure what the troll was doing. Artemis, who had never paid attention in Care of Magical Creatures past this point, felt quite angry at himself at this point. From the physique of the troll, it seemed to have a thick skull, with all brawn and no brain, but that was not exactly helpful with six eleven-year-olds against a monstrous beast.

The troll advanced on the cowering Malfoy, who was now hyperventilating. Before anyone could stop her, Pansy ran out from the corridor, screeching for her dearest Draco. It would have been funny if the situation was not so serious.

It did seem to buy them some time though, because the troll, with its club half-raised, turned away from Malfoy and walked in the opposite direction. It was a good thing now that no one was in imminent danger, but quite unfortunately, the troll began advancing on Pansy instead.

"No! Pansy!" whispered Eva. "You idiot, why did the stupid hat put you in Slytherin when you are such a Gryffindor at times?" she moaned.

"Dear Merlin," Blaise whispered. "We have to do something. If she gets hurt or killed, there will probably be a lawsuit, and they might shut down the school and send us to Durmstrang or Beauxbatons."

Nott looked expectantly at Artemis. "You always have a plan, Artemis," he goaded.

Artemis' mind suddenly went blank. He was supposed to be calm in these situations. Yet, when Draco had been near death, and now Pansy nearing her demise, Artemis felt oddly worried for these people. He barely knew them, and yet his heart was beating its way out of his chest out of fear, not for his own life, but for theirs. What was wrong with him? What was Hogwarts – what was magic, in general, doing to him?

"Artemis?" Artemis snapped out of his daze. "The only thing strong enough to defeat it is…itself. We need a distraction first, quick!"

"Easier done than said," Blaise said, picking a loose stone off the wall. He whistled to the troll. "Hey, ugly, I'm talking to you!" The troll turned around, confused at the new noise coming from a different direction. Immediately, Blaise threw the rock, which found its way home on the troll's left eye.

Snarling, the beast flailed its arm without the club wildly, clawing at the damaged eye and howling. Artemis took this chance to fire a well-aimed burning spell at the troll. "Incendio!" he growled, and suddenly the troll's ear hairs were aflame. The monster began shrieking and shrank from the sudden heat and light. When the fire instead followed him and grew bigger (much to Artemis' disgust; the troll already smelt bad enough without its burning, lice-ridden hair to add to the stench), it tried to snuff out the flames itself.

Its method of dousing a fire, was, as Artemis planned, to flail at the fire and hope it would go away like flies would. The troll slapped itself in the face, and fell to the ground, writhing.

Using the simple levitating charm they had been taught on the first day of classes, Artemis made the club hover above the troll's head, and released the spell. The chunk of heavy wood, following the force of gravity, fell to earth, its fall broken by the troll's skull. A rather ominous CRACK was heard as the force of the dropping club overcame the strength of the parietal bone. The creature shuddered, and was still.

"Aguamenti," Artemis said, and the sputtering fire, which had been happily converting troll hair proteins into atomic element number six, died out. The troll would probably suffer some heavy brain damage now, but that would not really affect it considering its overall mental state.

Everyone was silent. An uncomfortable cloud of uneasiness hung over them, like the stillness was a vortex that had to be filled with words. Finally, Malfoy, who had somehow slunk over from his position in the corner over to the group without anyone noticing, nervously (since when were Malfoys nervous?) cleared his throat and mumbled, "Thanks for finding me. I've been such a jerk, and you still saved me from becoming troll food."

Pansy, sobbing, ran over and threw herself onto Draco. "When Quirrell ran into the Great Hall yelling about the troll, and you weren't there, we thought you were dead! I had to come look for you! Don't ever do that again!" Draco, not knowing what to do, stood stiffly and awkwardly patted her on the back, wanting nothing more than this smaller, younger version of his mother to_ get off_.

Theodore seemed perfectly forgiving. "It's okay, Draco. Everyone makes mistakes. The important thing is that we're all friends now."

Blaise was incredulous. "Holy hippogriffs (Blaise certainly had an interesting vocabulary), a Malfoy apologizing? Call the papers, this should make the front page of the Daily Prophet!"

Artemis himself was surprised, but felt that it was not impossible. People were not exactly wholly bad, he decided. Malfoy simply needed a nudge in the right direction, and, well, if being nearly killed in a gory manner and saved in the nick of time by those you looked down upon, then good for him. It was honorable enough to thank your rescuers; he would have put aside his pride and done the same thing if he had been in Draco Malfoy's situation. Probably. Maybe. He hoped he would not have to be in such a deathly scenario to find out. "Apology accepted."

Blaise whistled through his teeth. "Well, that was melodramatic. And it didn't even take five minutes for us to take down a huge troll! It should only take five minutes to get back, and if we're lucky the others won't blab about us being gone, and if we're _really_ lucky, the professors won't notice!"

Then, from behind them, a tart, stiff, voice sharply snapped, "The professors will not notice what, Mr. Zabini?"

The group spun around, and was met with the extremely livid face of Professor McGonagall.

"Oh, we are so in for it," Zabini muttered. "Me and my big mouth."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This was from both the book and the movie. I couldn't help but put that bit in there about the troll _and _the Slytherin dormitories both being in the dungeons. I'm surprised J.K. Rowling didn't notice that. Or maybe she did, and was trying to kill all the Slytherins...**

**:) Smiles.**


	11. The Rogue Broomstick

"Explain yourselves now!" their strict Transfiguration professor barked. "Were the instructions in returning to the dormitories immediately not clear? Did you think that looking for a troll on your own was a good idea when the teachers were on their way?"

"Minerva," Professor Dumbledore said gently. Professor McGonagall stiffened and then relaxed, although her cheeks were still burning and her eyes extremely disapproving.

Then, the Headmaster turned to the group. "Would you like to tell me what happened?"

The boys shuffled nervously. Finally, Eva answered, "We were going to go the dorms, but then we got separated from the group because the dungeons were so dark and big. And we did not purposely go looking for a troll; we prefer to live, like sensible people, thank you very much. There was a troll in the dungeons, and the Slytherin dormitories were in the _dungeons_." At this, some of the teachers coughed tensely.

Eva was a good Slytherin, Artemis decided. Her story was not exactly a lie – they _had _gotten separated from the group, simply after they arrived at the dormitories. The dungeons _were_ dark and big, thought it was not the reason why they were "lost." And they did not purposely look for the troll, they were simply following Pansy in "Operation Rescue Draco."

"Anyway, we ran into the troll, and fought for our lives, and luckily the plan worked," Eva finished.

"And how did you manage to incapacitate the troll?" Professor Dumbledore asked.

"Pansy and Draco distracted it by running in opposite directions, and then Blaise threw a rock at it as a diversion. We used Wingardium Leviosa to knock it out with its own club," Artemis said, omitting the part where he set the troll on fire and then put it out, because he could have been questioned as to how he knew those higher level spells in the first place. He hoped the teachers would not notice the slightly charred ear on the troll or the smoke that was slowly combining with the horrid smell of the troll. They did not.

"Well, then, five points to Slytherin each. You have just done us all a great favor, though I will have to ask you that in the future to please be more careful."

As the teachers turned to leave, Draco opened and closed his mouth as if he was planning to say something. He finally decided that yes, he would say what he needed to say, and called out, "Professor?"

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Will you do me a favor and not mention this to my father?"

Professor Dumbledore stared at him silently, those pale blue eyes seeming more serious than ever, observing Draco. Artemis decided that the headmaster was more intelligent than he seemed at first. Finally, he said, "Mention what, Draco?" And then he turned away.

* * *

><p>Following the entire incident, Artemis, Draco, Theodore, Blaise, Pansy, and Eva returned back to the dormitories to a chaotic mess that died down as soon as they were spotted.<p>

They were given some harsh lecturing by the prefects, about being "stupid" and "Gryffindor" (so House names were also adjectives now?), but then Draco calmly assured them that the situation had been perfectly under control, and that no one rushed into the action blindly, and that Artemis had a good plan that was executed perfectly, and no one was ever in any real danger, not to mention Slytherin earned thirty points because their first-years incapacitated a troll.

This seemed to impress the rest of the room, and they all accepted the explanation without any further complaints or questions. Blaise just seemed mildly surprised that Draco Malfoy of all people would cover for them, and Artemis was just thankful that they did not have to face another round of interrogation like when they were caught by the teachers.

The boys went to sleep quite content.

Slytherin House was good at keeping the news among themselves, and it took nearly a week and a half for the story to leak out about how Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, Artemis Fowl, Draco Malfoy, and Eva Bole, six first-years, had managed to take down that troll on Halloween.

* * *

><p>The same could not be said of Gryffindor House.<p>

The following month, some rather interesting rumors were circulating around the school. Some of it was that the troll was actually a boggart that someone had stuffed inside Quirrell's wardrobe as a prank. The more ridiculous ones stated that it was actually a dragon hiding in the dungeons, and half of the Slytherin dorms was destroyed. (The Slytherin Prefects swiftly and ruthlessly put an end to that one.)

Their Slytherin gang had a bit of celebrity status now, and while Zabini was perfectly happy with all the attention (mainly from the girls from all of the other houses, who went up to him and asked him about the entire ordeal), Artemis would have preferred to step out of the limelight. He favored anonymous fame more than anything.

Therefore, he allowed Zabini to brag as much as he wanted about how he had the main role in incapacitating the troll. It was easier than having to answer questions himself. He did not need a new rumor about how "Artemis Fowl dueled a troll and made its head explode with a dark curse taught only to seventh-years!" As if one actually _needed_ an advanced curse to make a troll's head explode. He already had enough practice on Crabbe and Goyle during Transfiguration.

Malfoy kept quiet, which was thankfully becoming a more regular occurrence. One really did not have much to say when he was the damsel in distress.

The truly delicious bit of information, though, was the fact that Professor Snape had apprehended Quirrell near the third-floor corridor later that very day. The Gryffindor version of the story, however, was that Quirrell had gone there after Professor Snape. In any event, both professors Snape and Quirrell were there that day. Whatever was in there was probably quite nasty, because their head of house was walking with a limp for all of the next week.

So, Artemis thought, the troll was just a diversion. There was something very important and dangerous in there…and both teachers were prime suspects. Only time would tell the true culprit. Artemis normally would have cared less, but if students kept coming to harm because of these ridiculous escapades, he would have to put a stop to it. That and he did not want competition as the greatest thief there…now that he mentioned it, he _was_ quite curious as to what was hidden there…

* * *

><p>For the past months, Artemis had scored perfectly on every exam given (except for Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures, where he barely scraped by with an O grade due to his unwillingness to get his hands dirty). He kept the true extent of his genius secret, though. No need to expend all of his ammunition before the school year was even over.<p>

People would be afraid of genius. They would know what to expect. So Artemis just kept the guise of an academically talented student, like Hermione Granger – purposely, he stayed barely above the curve, barely the best in class. Enough to seem exceptional, but realistic. (That really ticked Granger off. She was always a point away from the top.)

Meanwhile, he was already going through the second-year curriculum on his own, as well as some other advanced magic from the restricted section (courtesy of Professor Snape, whom he had impressed with a perfect score on the first practical potions exam). Some of the books in the restricted section were only there because they were so advanced, not because they were necessarily evil, like a reference on becoming an Animagus.

Artemis would have fun, running around as an unregistered Animagus – it required some advanced potion-making (that he could do at home, over the holidays, though now was not the right time) and some complicated spellwork, which he would probably have to do in secret at school due to the Wizarding Trace that he was currently researching...

He slowly made a list of all the things he was going to accomplish in his magical career. Animagus – that would require a more elaborate schedule later. Patronus – he could do that, but he needed to be able to lose himself in a happy memory…that would need work. Apparition – was it possible, under seventeen? Probably, but could the Ministry track underage Apparition like underage magic?

"Did you hear? Potter made the Gryffindor Quidditch team! As a first-year!" was the news that went on that day. The Hogwarts grapevine was becoming more and more informative by the day.

"What do you mean?" Malfoy snapped, suddenly interested.

"I don't know the full story, but when the Gryffindor team was practicing, he watched and caught the Snitch by accident. And then Wood gave him a broom, and he caught the Snitch for real several times, and now he's on the team," Lavender Brown bragged to the Slytherins. "He even got a Nimbus 2000!"

"Well, this should be interesting. His first match is coming up, and I should like to see how he does," Artemis said. Lavender beamed and skipped away, possibly to tell the other houses.

* * *

><p>The match was interesting, all right. Draco had brought Omniculars to the match, and didn't seem to mind when the others "borrowed" them. (Without permission, of course.)<p>

Blaise had stolen the pair from Nott yet again, when suddenly he pointed. "What's going on with Potter's broom?" Artemis, who was paying more attention to the Quaffle and the Chasers' strategies (noting to himself that Slytherin needed something better than blunt almost-fouls, dirty play, and brute force if they were going to get anywhere) unwillingly tore his eyes away from the plays just in time to see Potter's broom buck like a crazy mule.

"It looks cursed," Artemis muttered.

"Who'd go so far to curse someone's broom over a lousy Quidditch match?" Nott asked.

"It's not just a Quidditch match…it's Potter's Quidditch match," Artemis said. "It's difficult to tamper with flying brooms and other sports equipment – a spiteful student could not have done this. I bet he has a lot of enemies. There could be old supporters of Voldemort still around, or maybe even an undead spirit of Voldemort speaking to and possessing an innocent person."

"That's a cheerful thought," Malfoy muttered.

"What's Quirrell doing?" Blaise asked through the Omniculars.

Snatching the lenses back, Malfoy said, "I don't believe it…he's staring straight forward at Potter, muttering under his breath…I can't tell what he's saying, though."

"Well, he's definitely affecting Potters new broom somehow," Blaise inferred. "Wandless spells like this, you need to maintain full eye contact."

"Let me see. I can read lips," Artemis said, and Draco handed him the device. Concentrating, he repeated Quirrell's words back to the rest for their benefit. "_Virga no tergiversatio, vestri vinco est an hostilis, veneficus opus obviam parvulus…_"

"I recognize some words from that…sounds like a curse," Blaise said.

"It's Latin. Something about a broom," Malfoy supplied helpfully. He was being helpful a lot, lately. It was odd, but Artemis decided not to dwell on it, considering the fact that their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was practicing the Dark Arts.

"Why would Quirrell curse the broom?" Nott hissed.

"Maybe he's under someone else's orders…like Voldemort." Artemis pondered.

"Bit ironic, isn't it? Our dear Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher isn't doing a very good job resisting the Dark Arts, himself," Nott replied.

Artemis' eyes drifted over to a new point. "Professor Snape is muttering under his breath, too," he supplied.

"What? What's he saying?" Nott asked.

"He's too far away. The Omniculars aren't focusing that well in the teachers' box," Artemis said. "Judging from when he opens and closes his mouth, however…it's at the same rate as Quirrell, except he's adding some extra syllables now and then. I'm guessing it's the countercurse." Artemis focused back on Quirrell right when a brown blur zoomed across the stand and knocked him over.

"Why would Professor Snape do that? He hates Potter!"

"Professor Dumbledore's probably making him do that," Artemis said. "He doesn't like Potter, but he knows that keeping the boy safe is the best course of action, and simply makes up for that by being absolutely brutal to him in class."

"Hey, look, the broom's back to normal," Draco observed. "What happened to Quirrell?"

"Someone's knocked him down. Now I've lost him, or her."

Turning back to the game, the boys realized that Slytherin had scored five more goals in the confusion, using every unfair advantage to their advantage.

When Potter nearly choked on the Snitch, however, Artemis silently joked if he wasn't trying to kill himself.

* * *

><p><em>Later, in the Slytherin male 1st-year dormitories<em>

"I don't know if whoever stopped Quirrell did so by accident, or if he or she actually knew what was going on," Artemis stated. "That is curious. The question is, was Quirrell working for himself, Voldemort, or some other madman?" Before, it had seemed so simple – Quirrell was just some greedy individual…but now with the cursing incident, perhaps he had other motives? Maybe Potter had found out something he shouldn't have discovered, and needed to be disposed of?

"Don't get yourself killed trying to find out," Draco snarked.

"That's going to be a heavy task, finding out," Blaise acknowledged. "Tons of people want Potter dead. And if it really turns out to be You-Know-Who, we're in a lot of trouble. If he's alive…I don't know what all of the old pureblood daddies will do." He stared at Malfoy as he said this.

Malfoy glared at Blaise. "The Dark Lord was a crazy old man, and my father would never follow him of his own will," he declared vehemently. "Even if he had the right idea about blood purity, his actions were wrong – Father said he tortured his own people. That's just mad."

"And letting those of 'lesser blood' die isn't? While I agree with your opinion on Voldemort, I fail to see your logic in your other statement," Artemis said frostily.

"Whatever. We have our opinions. But we all don't want _him_ back, that we can agree on," Draco said dismissively.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Maybe it wasn't You-Know-Who, for all we know," Blaise said.

"The real question, as of now, is if we should tell. Do you think Potter has the right to know?" Nott asked.

No one answered him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: And there, we see the importance of learning how to read lips. **


	12. Pro and Conclusions

By now, Artemis was confident that there was much more to the stuttering man than met the eye.

Being innocent and timid – it was all an act. Now that Artemis was actually paying attention, he knew without a doubt that Quirrell was guilty. He was actually rather talented – there were only a few, small slips in his façade. They were very brief and impossible to notice to the untrained eye, but Artemis' eyes were far from untrained, and he noticed every single mistake, every single crack in that wall. Certain slips of the tongue, certain twitches that were not part of his normal, shaky demeanor, all gave hints to his true intentions.

Artemis casually mentioned Professor Snape a few times, and noted carefully how each time he said the other's name, Quirrell would suck on his lower lip and crimp his eyebrows, in an annoyed and angry fashion. If Professor Snape had been the culprit, and Quirrell was attempting to stop him, he would have been more afraid. Strangely enough, this did not happen with any other member of the faculty was mentioned, except for perhaps Dumbledore himself.

If it was truly Voldemort who was behind this all, things could get dangerous. It was too late now to remove himself from his position as a potential threat – everyone knew that he had the greatest ability of his year and the school (how much he had managed to keep unknown so far), and acting timid and innocent all of a sudden would be suspicious. He was already "suspicious" enough as it was, even though he hadn't done anything wrong, and from the way Professor McGonagall's eyes pierced him like a hawk, he could tell that she trusted him least of all the teachers.

Being a part of the next generation, Artemis had little idea of the terror the man truly imposed. To him, Voldemort was simply an idea, like the bogeyman Juliet had told him about when his stubborn three-year-old self refused to take a nap. (Imagine her surprise when she got stuck in the bear-trap that he had turned into a bogeyman-trap.) He hated the idea of not knowing what he was up against.

* * *

><p>"I'm telling you, it's Snape!"<p>

Artemis' eyes snapped around to the table behind him. The library was pretty much deserted, since it was the weekend, and the only people left, excluding him, were Potter and his friend, the Weasel (as Draco still called him sometimes), and of course, the bushy-haired girl, Granger.

It had been Potter who made this accusation – Artemis knew he and the Potions master had never gotten along, but that was a rather serious grudge to be holding. Then again, Professor Snape was not exactly a fluffy, innocent bunny, and Artemis could understand suspicion held against that man, even if it was unjustified.

"For heaven's sake, Harry, how could you say that about a teacher? You don't have any proof!" Granger argued.

Artemis disliked making stereotypes, but the general opinion of Gryffindor House (at least, from his Slytherin year-mates) – that they were loud, boisterous, and hotheaded – was gradually becoming more and more convincing.

"Oh yeah?" Weasley, this time. "Then how come Hagrid and I saw Snape staring straight ahead at Harry and muttering under his breath? He was definitely jinxing that broom!"

"He could have been saying a countercurse. If the curse was strong enough to mess with Quidditch equipment Harry would have been off in seconds, regardless of how tightly he was holding onto the broom."

"Why are you defending him? It could have easily been someone else saying the countercurse."

"I'm not _defending_ Professor Snape, I'm just stating a fact that Harry shouldn't jump to conclusions and call a possibly innocent person guilty!" Granger was slightly more clever than she acted – just slightly.

"You think _all_ people who are teachers are innocent," Ron growled. "As if that man hasn't done enough."

"I think that _all _people are innocent until proven guilty, and until you can actually prove that Professor Snape is guilty, I don't want either of you running around and spying on people and getting into more trouble!"

"Well, how's this for proof? The moment Professor Snape stopped moving his lips, Harry's broom returned to normal!" Weasley yelled. The boy had some serious anger issues. He was also quite terrible with logic. Honestly, there were so many other possibilities that could result from that one simple observation, and yet the obtusely simple-minded child seemed to think, quite depressingly, that such a fact was all of the proof in the world.

"Oh, Ronald, if Professor Snape had really been out to kill Harry, he would have kept spelling the broom until he fell off! I'm just saying, a countercurse could have been a possibility…"

"There had to have been someone in the crowd who was cursing me, and it couldn't have been a student," Potter said. Apparently, he had his own intelligent moments as well. "Dumbledore wasn't at the match. Neither were Flitwick or Sprout. McGonagall is our Head of House – if she wanted to kill me over grades or something, she wouldn't have done that at her own House match. Quirrell can't even talk about vampires without fainting. Madam Hooch was busy as a referee. Snape's the only one left. It's got to be him, or who else could it be?"

"See?" Weasley said, smugly.

"Well – " Suddenly Granger went quiet, having just noticed that Artemis was still in the room with them. Potter and Weasley followed her gaze, and saw him there too. Artemis suddenly felt quite uncomfortable, with the three pairs of eyes on him.

"How long have you been eavesdropping on us?" Weasley snapped.

"It is not exactly eavesdropping if one is publicly broadcasting his words to the world," Artemis retorted.

"All right, how much have you heard then?"

Artemis faked a pondering pose. "Oh…I don't know. I suppose I heard everything from 'I'm telling you, it's Snape!' up until now."

They were stunned. That truly was amazing; he had simply been sitting in plain sight and in all of their self-absorbedness, they had not even noticed him there. Potter finally said, "Why don't we just ignore this all and pretend it never happened?" _Good try_, Artemis thought, _although it was quite plainly useless_.

"I would, but I'm afraid there is more at stake here," Artemis said.

"What do you mean?"

"We should go somewhere else, first."

Potter pursed his lips, unsure. "How can we trust you? We barely even know you."

"Well, if you think that I am trying to hurt you, every possible conflict will be three to one, a disadvantage that I am not stupid enough to take. Besides, as I mentioned, there is more at stake than just a silly Quidditch match, and if you already know that, then I am fairly certain you will also understand my motives from keeping all of you from getting yourselves killed." Artemis picked up his materials and strode calmly out of the library.

They followed him.

* * *

><p>They were in an empty classroom, where Artemis had closed but not locked the door, to subtly give them privacy but security, making sure there was the fact that they could always leave in their subconscious. Artemis told them as much as he deemed safe for them to at least know for the time being.<p>

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked, for the umpteenth time.

"Yes," he said, trying to sound firm but not exasperated. "I saw, as clear as day, Quirrell muttering under his breath. After reading his lips I could tell that it was a very complicated curse. Even if I was not familiar with the Latin vocabulary – " that was not entirely true; Artemis knew what it meant, but he would never use something like that, he promised himself, for he had better things to do than go around cursing broomsticks – "I could tell from the structure that it was a curse."

"But he's Quirrell!" Ronald gasped, still in shock from this revelation.

"I would never put anything past anyone. For all we know, Quirrell could be a great actor. He could be working under a greater power. All I know is that he was cursing the broom, and Professor Snape was muttering the countercurse."

Hermione seemed somewhat appeased that she was right about Professor Snape being innocent, but also rather disconcerted that the culprit had turned out to be another teacher instead. Out of the frying pan and into the fire – what did she expect? They were at Hogwarts, no student was capable of such a curse, and Argus Filch could not figure out how to magically unlock a door to save his own life.

"How do I know that you're not just making this up to get Professor Snape out of trouble?" Harry asked.

"You know how Ronald Weasley mentioned that Harry's broom returned to normal after Professor Snape stopped whispering the spell?"

"Yes?..."

"In reality, someone knocked Quirrell over. It was simply a blur from where I was standing, but I was wondering if you knew who it was?" Artemis knew that he now had them in a checkmate. Of course, he had not been thinking about the blur that saved Harry Potter's life so much before, but there was something quite distinctive between that mysterious accident and the witch that stood in front of him.

Hermione's eyes widened. "I was only running over to the other side of the stadium to get a better look…but I did run into someone along the way…I don't remember – was it Quirrell? It was Quirrell!" She was forming her own conclusions, in the most haphazard manner, but at least they were correct. "Wow, you really are a genius!"

"It is my duty." (Artemis, ever so modest.)

Ronald Weasley seemed slightly awed. "So why are you helping us?" Artemis could tell that he accepted the information, but was still wary about Artemis as a person.

"By now, I am quite sure that all of you know about the threat that Voldemort poses. Only a fool would believe that he is completely dead and gone. Perhaps Professor Quirrell is truly the frightened little ferret that you think he is – if so, then he is definitely working under a greater power. The only person who could commit such atrocities…I shall let you form your own conclusions."

All three nodded. It made sense. "But what about the troll on Halloween? I bet those two events weren't just coincidences. And why would Snape be injured?" Weasley asked.

So, Weasley knew how to ask reasonable questions, too.

"You would be correct. The troll was a diversion, to get everyone to the dungeons, while the perpetrator would be able to access the third-floor corridor. And, of course, Quirrell was the one warning everyone that the troll was in the dungeons. Afterwards, both Professor Snape and he were found near that very place. That was when I could draw two suspects – one was the criminal, and one was the policeman," Artemis explained.

"Their separate actions at that last game was proof of which role was played by whom," he continued. "This is another reason why I am against him. In case you didn't notice, the troll was in the dungeons, as was the Slytherin dormitories. One of my…acquaintances was nearly killed, and if this man is going to steamroll over innocent students in his quest for…whatever is in the third-floor corridor –"

"– anyone could be next, including you, me, or my friends," Potter finished his thoughts for him.

"Exactly."

"So, you're saying that Quirrell set the troll in the school as an attempt at a diversion on Halloween to get into the third-floor corridor. Snape tried to stop him and got injured in the process. Then, at the match, he tried to kill Harry by cursing the broom, but Snape was saying the countercurse," Ron summarized.

"Very well said."

"But why would Professor Snape want to save me? No one can deny that he absolutely abhors me," Harry said.

"Perhaps so, but Professor Snape is also a reasonably intelligent man. There is the possibility that this Lord Voldemort is also involved. If so, then he is like me – we both agree that his blood purity mania and terrorist tactics are not the vision of a bright future."

Hermione was surprised. "You're the first Slytherin I've met here who has not looked down upon me for being Muggle-born," she said sadly.

"They are obviously quite deluded, then," Artemis muttered. He was proud of his House for the accomplishments it yielded, but also very annoyed that their extreme conservatism was preventing them from moving forward more. "Blood is not the important thing – power and ability are.

"You, Hermione, are quite a powerful witch, and one would be a fool to deny your assistance in any cause simply because your parents cannot make sparks come out of a stick. Harry Potter, your mother was a muggle-born, just like Miss Granger, and yet she was such a powerful resistance fighter during the first war that it is actually in history books. And Ronald Weasley, both of our families are demoted in status due to our labels as 'blood-traitors'.

"And yet we can both see that none of that ever makes a difference in who we are. If the wizarding world puts aside these prejudices, the entire magical community can all advance so much more quickly. In these times, we need every extra set of hands we can get, and every good idea from every functioning brain. Denying someone these chances for something as superficial as heritage is also denying oneself."

A little flattery, and telling the group what they wanted to hear was enough to bring them to his side. Even if everything he said was true…there was also a slightly darker reason. It was for the greater good, though – all of it. He hoped…

"Well, thanks mate. Now all we need to do is find out what's so important that a crazy old wizard and a mass murderer will trample all over people to get," Ronald stated cheerfully.

"We should all research it. If Artemis and I find any information, we'll share it with you, and vice versa, okay?" Hermione said before any one of the boys could protest.

And that was Artemis' first true conversation with the Golden not-quite-Trio-yet.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I hope I kept Ron in-character. I prefer him as the cute and cheerful little kid (like in Potter Puppet Pals - he's so adorkable!), although rather hot-tempered and easily embarrassed. I've read many fanfictions that portray him as a completely stubborn, prejudiced, simple-minded jerk, which isn't true because he IS smart. (Sheesh, he acts like a jealous and insecure idiot a few times in the 4th and 7th book and you hear about it forever.)**

**He's just more of a practical, hands-on type of person, while Hermione is more of a concrete paper-test logic-smart girl, and Harry is somewhere in between. He is rather straightforward in his thinking, which is why it took a lot of convincing for him to trust Artemis, but once he did, he was perfectly reasonable.**

**Also, Hermione isn't a close friend to Harry and Ron yet because they never saved her from the troll. Don't worry – they'll get over themselves eventually, just later than in the actual story.**


	13. Winter Arrivals

**So sorry for the late update. Finals week was a pain. **

**It's okay, though - I loved you guys so much that I stopped writing for just a week so that I could get good grades so that my mom would let me continue writing! It's like an investment-payoff sort of thing.**

**Artemis: Excuses, excuses.**

**Me: Oh, as if _you _don't do the same thing.**

* * *

><p>Back to the topic of the third-floor corridor, Artemis now pored over all of the research he could get.<p>

He was very certain that there was something extremely valuable hidden in there…Artemis was going to find out what it was, and he was going to get his hands on it. Now that he had enlisted the help of Potter and his friends, things could become a lot easier, especially with, as he grudgingly admitted, Granger's phenomenal research skills.

If he had something that Quirrell didn't, everyone would win. Well, everyone except for Quirrell, who wanted the whatever it was, and Hogwarts, which was supposed to protect the item from everyone. He would figure out the real plan later, when he actually needed physical access. There was no use counting his chickens before they hatched – if he began planning out his grand heist without even knowing what he was running after, he would personally check himself into a mental ward and test himself for brain damage.

With some old newspaper articles from that summer prior to the school year, he learned that on July 31st, vault 713 was robbed, although nothing was taken from it. With some less-than-scrupulous methods of obtaining information (involving a lot of his gold – well, not exactly _his_ gold – and incognito negotiations with goblins), he also learned that it was the same day Harry Potter went to Diagon Alley, along with the groundskeeper Hagrid. The pair had emptied that very vault, before going on Harry's regular business.

Artemis was now certain that the articles in vault 713 and the third-floor corridor were the same. He was even more certain that the failed thief had been Quirrell (or was working for Quirrell). If he found out what was in that vault, he could determine the contents of the third-floor corridor…

Using his great experience of hacking into bank accounts, Artemis set out on the task. Electronically, of course, it was impossible, as wizards used tangible currency protected by hundreds of wards and spells, instead of the pathetic digital encryption-password methods that Muggles used. Breaking into Gringotts would be more difficult…piles of gold floating around would certainly attract attention, and the items in the richer vaults were probably cursed, anyway, so that they would be useless to thieves who somehow _did _get their hands on the goods.

He would have plenty of fun trying to figure out how to do that when he was older and knew more. Right now though, the focus was this mystery regarding the third-floor corridor. He was saving people's lives…really…he just wanted a little something for compensation. He refused to go through all of that danger, work, and drama for nothing, even if the challenge in itself was interesting.

The magical world was fun. It contained so many more opportunities! He wondered what other obstacles that would actually require a bit of thinking on his part to overcome in his later years. He had long exhausted the supply of the Muggle world ages ago.

He was getting somewhat sidetracked in this daydreaming, however – magic made him excited, and excitement made his mind think more quickly, in broader terms; that was undeniable now, and Artemis was not stupid enough to push away some very obvious feelings. Most of them, anyway.

Finding out the owner of the vault had been relatively easy, though. The records were simply written on scrolls, locked in filing cabinets. Access to the scrolls was not heavily barred – only employees were allowed access, but those who found their way in were not exactly punished, either. Artemis simply made good...friends…with one of the newer wizard employees, who, in his eagerness to help, owled Artemis the name of the owner of vault 713.

"…_Dear Mr. Fowl…[insert useless pleasantries here]…The owner of the vault in question is Mr. Nicholas Flamel…[insert useless signature and advertising here]…"_

Nicholas Flamel.

Checkmate.

* * *

><p>Artemis had gone home over the winter, giddy with knowledge.<p>

"You seem awfully happy, darling," Angeline said.

"Oh, I am," Artemis said, with a mask of emotionlessness set firmly in place. Of course, he purposely allowed small breaks in his bearing every so often, to give the impression that he was truly happy. Which was a lie – he was never happy, simply intrigued at times. He was not Ebenezer Scrooge, he simply had high standards, and enjoyed his work more than these useless feelings that were probably just chemical transmitters in the brain anyway.

"Magic is an amazing thing, and here is a school where children of my age finally appreciate my genius." Also a lie.

But Angeline, Juliet, and even Butler were convinced. They knew that Artemis was a normally morose and arrogant child. The act was well done, Artemis congratulated himself. He stayed in character, and kept his high-class attitude, but let just the right amount of breaks show so that he truly seemed thankful for magic. The slight bounce in his tone…the words still sophisticated but the sentences longer and spoken slightly faster…no one would suspect him. He was truly excited, but about an entirely different topic altogether.

Nicholas Flamel had been such a familiar name that Artemis was surprised he had not noticed before. He was the inventor of the Philosopher's Stone – simple rock that could help create gold out of any other metal and prolong life indefinitely – something that most men would either give up his fortune for or die for, ironically.

It could be useful, especially to Artemis. He was more interested in the gold, of course, but prolonging his life also sounded appealing, as it meant he could have all the time he wanted to make new discoveries on whatever he wished. (He had already read _Tuck Everlasting_ when he was three and understood the disadvantages to eternal life, but an extra few decades would not be that bad and the effects would be reversible anyway).

Now he understood why Quirrell, and maybe even Voldemort, would want it.

It was another reason for him to have it.

* * *

><p>He also continued to search for his father, this time with the help of magic and some tracing spells. He could not use magic outside of school, true, but he could definitely get someone else to do it for him, albeit with a little persuasion. So far, he had gotten some important leads and strong contacts within Russia and its corrupt Ministry of Magic. There was little he could do now but wait…<p>

The breakdown of communism there and the chaos that resulted took a toll on the Russian wizarding world as well, for all of a sudden many Soviet territories, as well as the wizards who lived there, were part of a new nation, observing new rules. Some wizards were fine with returning to mainland Russia and staying within the jurisdiction of their Ministry of Magic to avoid new complications, but many others stayed put or even immigrated outside.

They were too busy addressing this new problem to track down old Dark supporters of a more insane, British, magical version of Adolf Hitler (that was both ludicrous and a mouthful, but also a true notion). However, they were also desperate enough for money that they could do him some favors for more "generous, nonprofit, anonymous donations".

Artemis knew this would take a chunk out of his funds – another reason why he should get the stone. Sure, he could hack accounts and then buy gold in the Muggle world, but with the Stone, he wouldn't even need to spend all that time robbing people; instead he could be researching that new, intriguing topic: fairies.

There were fairies in the wizarding world, but they were apparently mischievous, stupid creatures. Now, though, Artemis had discovered new signals from underground, about a new species called the People. They were a different race of fae who had relocated underground after some war with humans centuries ago, and spent their time there, surpassing humans in their technology (though they had somewhat limited magic compared to that of wizards).

The reason for that was because wizarding magic was heavily specialized, through natural human thought, hence the reason why, in most cases, a wand was needed to channel the highly versatile energy. Fairy magic was just as versatile and powerful, but it was completely raw and unmodified. Therefore, fairies could easily use magic without a tool by instinct, but in highly limited formats, like untrained wizarding children.

If a fairy learned how to artificially specialize his or her magic, though...the possibilities would be endless.

If _he_ could harness this…the possibilities would be endless.

All he had to do now was find a copy of their Book. Even the smartest organisms had a few traditional setbacks, and putting all of your secrets in one place was the downfall of the People. That would enable him to learn their secrets and rules to use against them (and figure out what they could use against him), and maybe steal some technology and kidnap one for research or the like…all for the sake of knowledge and his family, of course.

Look out, Haven City.

* * *

><p><em>Christmas Day<em>

Apparently Christmas was the celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ. Artemis, being fairly atheistic and work-obsessed, had forsaken anything associated with the holiday (or holidays in general) for the past two years when his father was missing and his mother had been ill.

Even if he did believe in something as trivial as such, he would not have opened the so-called gifts that the nonexistent Santa Claus left behind because the rest of the foolish world had gotten the date wrong. When he was five, he had determined that shepherds would not have had their sheep out in December. In any event, even if shepherds _could _have their livestock out in the middle of the winter, the positions of the stars described in the "Holy Book" were wrong, anyway.

Actually, the Fowls had never _truly_ celebrated the winter holidays. Angeline had always tried her best to get Artemis Sr. and Jr. together to open the presents and maybe have a nice dinner together, which did work when their son had been a baby. As both males had grown, though, Artemis Fowl Sr. began distancing himself more and more, being focused on his work.

When Artemis was four, he spent only half the day at home and left early for some necessary business venture.

From then on, his "attendance" was erratic.

Some years, he would stay and "celebrate" with the family.

Some years, he would skip out halfway.

Most years, he would be away during his work.

Needless to say, their family was not very tight-knit.

This year, with Angeline finally out of her madness, she had fixed herself on the idea that this year would actually be a real Christmas (why wizards celebrated the day was unknown; he certainly would not have "celebrated" the birth of a religion that would persecute him for years to come) and dragged Artemis into the mess.

Oh, she meant well, but it left him exasperated and exhausted. How people could do this every year was incomprehensible even to a great mind like his.

* * *

><p>Winter break was soon over, and Angeline held on to her son tearfully, in a manner quite reminiscent of the first day of school. "Oh, <em>do<em> be careful, darling!"

"Yes, I will, mother." Artemis would stay safe…his actions were not. Now that he knew what he could do…there was no stopping him.

He would not greedily charge in, no; he needed to scout out the area and plan first. There had to be a way to find out all of the protections around the Philosopher's Stone before he actually went in. And that was why he was glad that the break was finally over – he could now go back to Hogwarts and fully plan his scheme. The greatest heist of all time, stealing a precious object from the safest place in the world, safer than Gringotts, even…

"I love you!" Angeline's voice shoved its way into his thoughts.

"I love you too, Mother," he responded placidly. He did love her, but at times like this, she was more annoying than helpful. Sometimes, Artemis' thoughts turned quite depressing. He was a genius, what use did he have for a mother except a somewhat sentimental hold that he could do without? Superior intellect meant distance, and he couldn't help but think that viewing his mother as such was true, if cruel…

Whatever. She was his mother, and she would always be here as a constant in his world, without holding much power over him.

He boarded the train and barely looked back at the teary Angeline.

* * *

><p><em>How funny human nature is. The greatest at one sacrifice much of another type. The happiest are the simple, and yet the proud cannot accept that, and believe that happiness comes from climbing higher, instead of contentment.<em>

_And those that climb higher up the tree take the branches below them for granted…As they climb, the tree is growing higher and higher still, and those that finally make it to the apex realize they have nowhere else to go, and that the view is not as beautiful as described. So they start to climb down…and realize that in the process of ascending they have broken all the branches…so they are simply stuck there, until they fall…_

_Intelligence without wisdom is a Philosopher's stone in itself. Often, the most important things in life are only given credit when too late._

_Even a genius has his shortcomings. _

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Weird ending, some of you may think. I know. But as cryptic as it may seem, it will make sense later on. MUCH later on. Maybe a little by the end of this story, but mostly in later installments of the series. (Major foreshadowing there).**

**I do not mean any offense to the devoutly religious for being a bit atheistic in my writing. You must remember, I am trying to write in third-person selective from Artemis' point of view (or some other minor characters here and there when I feel that Artemis is talking too much that it gets complicated and boring), and he is extremely scientific in his belief. **

**(Also, I never understood why J.K. Rowling gave the wizards Christmas, especially since I don't think pureblood families would be Christian…they wouldn't be the type to celebrate such an important holiday just for the sake of it and not even pay attention to its origins. Really, I feel Christmas is more of a "muggle" thing, in a non-offensive way).**

**And if I ruined your childhood by saying Santa Claus isn't real, remember: he IS real, but his name is actually San D'Klass, and he was last king of the elfin Frond dynasty. ^^**


	14. The Dragon Speaks

"So, how was your break?" Theodore greeted him pleasantly as he stepped into the compartment.

Theodore was sitting on the red velvet seat on the left side closest to the door. Gregory and Vince were probably trying to find the trolley lady. Artemis was between him and the window, staring out at the passing scenery. He sat in a contemplative pose, his eyebrows slightly knitted together, with his thin lips pressed into a tight line and his chin resting on his steepled fingers, and seemed quite content in ignoring the rest of the world, although he did acknowledge Draco with a silent nod.

There was only one empty spot left, on the right side next to Zabini. This time, however, Blaise actually moved over for him and Draco sat down beside the window.

* * *

><p><em>Winter Break<em>

Everyone had been much nicer to him ever since they rescued him from the troll, making Draco rather guilty about acting so arrogantly. But one couldn't call it arrogance, could they? He was a Malfoy, and that was what he was supposed to do. He liked the rest of the kids at Hogwarts and wanted to make friends with them, (except for Potter and his friends, because they were annoying) but his father was always going on about superiority. Not to mention that he wanted to please his father, and be a good heir.

He had been Sorted into Slytherin expecting to be the top in everything because it was what his family expected of him. He had to show the world the superiority of the purebloods, and most of all, the Malfoys.

But even though he was reasonably talented for his age, he wasn't crazy.

He didn't have a maddeningly keen ability to memorize textbooks like the Muggle-born Granger girl.

He wasn't frighteningly intelligent like Artemis Fowl either. It couldn't be helped that he was just born completely normal mentally. The only reason why he was this good at magic was through lots of practice, exposure to the art at a young age, a natural habit of confidence, and an obsessive-compulsive level of standards that he had been brought up with.

Artemis Fowl was always first in class (followed by Granger), always well-behaved, always knew exactly how to act and say to wheedle favors out of even the strict Gryffindor Head of House. Even Professor Dumbledore, who had, until now, only shown preference to the Gryffindors, was a kind, grandfather-like mentor to Artemis more than many others. (He didn't teach the boy anything, but was constantly making conversation and asking him about his friends, which was pretty much the same thing).

_Friends_. Ha. As if Fowl _had _any friends. If there was one thing that both of them had in common, it was the fact that neither of them had such a thing as "friends". Allies, yes. Friends...a laughable concept. In Slytherin, you trusted no one but yourself. The true human nature caused people to support you only if they have an incentive.

It was a bleak world for Draco.

Draco always tried so hard to beat Fowl, but he was unsuccessful. It just was not fair. Fowl was born a natural genius. He could effortlessly defeat one of the seventh-year wizard chess champions in less than fifteen moves. How was he ever able to compete?

He knew that he would be in for it from his father when he went home for the break, and he was right.

His father always found out about everything. Literally, everything. Draco hadn't written much of the truth about anything that was happening, and had instead written what his mother would have liked to hear. He reasoned that if he appeased his overly whiny and clingy mother and received good marks, which was a given as long as Professor Snape was there, his father could care less.

Lucius Malfoy had still managed to find out about Fowl. He even discovered that Fowl was beating Draco in all of his classes. Even Potions. (Draco wondered when the topic of the troll would be brought up – Dumbledore had kept his word about not saying anything, probably to avoid a lawsuit more than Draco's wishes, but eventually someone would let something slip years later when the subject had died down and he thought he was out of hot water.)

So, the first thing that he had encountered when he returned home was a very displeased Malfoy head and a stern lecture on "upholding the family honor," et cetera, et cetera. It had ruined the entire winter break for him.

It was not just the fact that he was being beaten, but also, because a _**Fowl**_ that was beating him - the low-down, blood-traitor, mercantile family. Sure, they were pureblooded and Slytherin, but they were "greedy good-for-nothings" who only cared about wealth and power and had no sense of self-respect for magic. Draco did not see what the problem was (they did go through many illegal means, but that was hardly the point; he knew that his father used money for his own good as well, as it was a part of life and politics). The pureblood community respected the Fowls on the outside because of their wealth and power, but everyone knew how much they were despised and gossiped about behind closed doors.

Artemis definitely knew. He was too intelligent and worldly to naively think otherwise.

The Fowls were simply Slytherins. They were quite ruthless and insanely ambitious and cunning, but then, so were the Malfoys. He honestly did not see much of a difference between the Fowls and the Malfoys, with the exception of their views on mudbloods. His father did not like them, while the Fowls were simply indifferent. What was wrong with that? Remaining neutral or getting involved according to one's interests and benefits, wasn't that a Slytherin trait?

In actuality, Fowl wasn't _that_ bad. He _had_ been one of the people who saved him from the troll. Sure, the kid was not the best people person, but with a bit of coaxing he could probably open up. He was already warming up to Blaise and Theodore (Crabbe and Goyle, on the other hand, were way out of his league).

They couldn't really be friends, but maybe going a little further than allies would be okay.

If Muggle-borns were so inferior, then how come Granger always beat him in exams? Surely Muggles were not _that_ stupid. He knew that he should hate them because his father did as well, although he was seriously wondering if his father was always right as he liked to claim.

On the train at the station, his father had warned him to "stay away from that Fowl heir," since "he is nothing but trouble." But on the inside, Draco knew that he would end up disobeying his father – something that he had never even considered doing before. It wasn't that he disagreed completely or hated his father. His father was a good man, or at least had good intentions for him and the world. Maybe. Just maybe. He wasn't sure. All he knew was that anyone with half a brain would try to get on Fowl's good side.

Artemis was crazy smart, crazy rich, and crazy powerful. He could become the next Dark Lord if he wanted, and Draco was certainly not making an enemy of him, no matter how much his father despised his family. Maybe he could persuade his father to put aside his prejudices…then he could see what a powerful ally Artemis was. His father was a smart, reasonable, and good man; he could see that. Hopefully.

* * *

><p><em>Present time<em>

Answering Theodore's earlier question about his break, Draco replied, "Average. Pleasant Christmas morning, lots of presents, and a fancy dinner," Draco decided to say, lying through his teeth about the "pleasant" part. "Father talked a lot about politics, which was surprisingly interesting." Say a little bit more, he told himself, so that the others won't get too suspicious and press. There was no need for them to know about what was going on inside his house; the matter was really so trivial. "Mother truly overdid it this year. The entire house was covered in holly and tinsel."

Well, that was lame. He was rambling, searching for something, anything to say, and came up with that. It did the trick, though, because Theodore accepted his answer and moved on.

"And you, Blaise?"

"We went to Greece; it was a nice break from all the snow I'm used to seeing here. The Chimaera was pretty interesting, though there was a pretty neat Sphinx around Thebes, too."

"That's neat, I wish I could have gone. We went to Italy instead. Apparently there's a species of sparkling vampires there."

Draco was positively horrified at this notion, as was Blaise, from his expression. Even Artemis, who had been thinking (or possibly plotting – Draco would not put it past the boy to do so) quite intensely, snapped out of his reverie and lifted his nose in a quite disgusted manner.

Theodore clutched his sides and started laughing madly. "Oh, I so got all of you! Nah, trolls would have to be smart first. If there were such a thing I would either kill them first or myself." This relaxed the cabin quite a bit. Draco mentally kicked himself for allowing himself to believe such a silly thing as _sparkling_ vampires. They burned in the sun, of course! There was no such thing. No such thing…

"You are absolutely _hilarious_, Nott. What a vivid imagination you have. Tell me, do you daydream of pink flying horses and castles in the sky as well?" Artemis said, a hint of a snicker in his voice. He obviously had not been pleased with Theodore's little trick, either.

This sobered Nott up quite a bit. "What a bright and sunny person you are."

Blaise laughed. "The day Artemis becomes a bright and sunny person is the day that vampires sparkle."

Draco laughed. He didn't understand why he and Blaise used to share so much animosity. Blaise was pretty funny and snarky. He had a witty and rather cutting, edgy sense of humor. Artemis glared at them.

"What? Stop looking at me like that!"

"Do not ever mention such an atrocious notion ever again." Artemis sounded serious, but they could all see that his icy bearing was slowly melting.

"Well, it's true. I mean, you're both cold, you both hate the sun, and you both drain the life out of those around you. And you smile like a vampire too!"

Artemis looked ill. "Blaise, please stop. _You _are draining the life out of _me_."

* * *

><p>Artemis was silent for the rest of the journey, choosing to return to his philosophical pose. After that slight lapse with Nott's story, he had distanced himself from everyone else and apparently found better company with his own mind.<p>

Eventually, the train went to a stop, and the students filed out back into the Great Hall for the returning feast.

"They really overdid it this time," Blaise said happily. He seized a bit of turkey for himself and then proceeded to argue loudly with Marcus Flint about how Care of Magical Creatures was worse than Herbology.

"You're stupid. Herbology is worse," Flint said. "You're stuck in a glass dome, where it's all hot and sweaty and disgusting. You have to pot plants and all of that useless stuff. Then there's that damned Venomous Tentacula in there. Just last week it took a bite out of the rear end of one of the Hufflepuffs."

"_You're_ stupid. At least plants don't constantly stink. You're just mad because Professor Sprout, who is the biggest bean sprout of a teacher in Hogwarts besides Professor Flitwick, failed your last exam."

"Can't you guys just shut up and agree they both suck or something? I don't like those classes either, but they are somewhat useful," Theodore begged.

"You shut up," they both retorted, turning on him.

Nott opened his mouth again, to join in the argument, along with some of the other girls and older students. (Crabbe and Goyle simply sat there lamely, stuffing their faces full of treacle tart. It was sickening, the way they ate. They were from rich, pureblood families; didn't they ever learn proper manners? Disgusted, Draco wondered how much the two apprentice trolls could eat. Extremely sweet things offended him greatly.)

"I have a better idea. What would happen if all of you imbeciles closed your mouths unless you had something more important to say than this useless bickering?" Artemis snarled. That certainly quieted their end of the table down.

_Someone definitely got up on the wrong side of the bed today,_ Draco thought. Artemis had always been curt and cold, but never this cruelly indelicate. It was not just the words, but the tone as well. Before, Artemis could easily (and arrogantly) tune out the petty conversations of the "lesser beings" or allow them to get away with a snide but amused remark. Now, he seemed genuinely angry, and from the way he was glaring, also absolutely murderous, and not just by his sarcasm.

If he was just in a bad mood, though, that was probably the typical behavior – no one could really deny a person that once in a while. (Perhaps he too had a bad time over break?) Draco didn't really worry, but then things got slightly more severe.

* * *

><p>The few weeks after they had returned told Draco that Artemis was behaving strangely…something was definitely wrong.. He was already antisocial, but now he was shutting up even more.<p>

The first clue that things were out of their usual order was when he showed up to breakfast later than he normally did (still early, but much, much later) with dark circles underneath his eyes.

"What's up, Artemis?" Theodore asked, trying to make light conversation.

"None of your concern," was the morose response.

He was more subdued in class, leaving Granger to answer all of the questions word for word from the textbooks.

"Mr. Fowl, would you like to explain the use of unicorn hair in some potions?" asked Professor Snape.

"Unicorn hair increases the stability of more volatile potions." That was it. No expounding, no explanation for his answer, no "dumbing things down" for the rest of the less mentally blessed population.

Sometimes he disappeared between and during meals and reappear much, much later, either in the library or in the common room with papers and maps full of detailed drawings. (What they were of was a mystery; if asked he would respond in cryptic, two-word answers, and later those pieces of parchment were nowhere to be seen).

"What are those?" Blaise would ask. No tact at all – just a direct, straightforward question, no wheedling. This was not normal Slytherin behavior, but their group knew Artemis well enough by now that he liked things to be concise and to the point. If he refused the first time, then no beating around the bush would change his mind, and doing so would probably annoy him and waste the time of both parties.

"Sheets of paper."

"What is on those sheets of paper?"

"Ink."

"What is the point of that ink?"

"That is for me to know and for you to leave alone."

Even then, Draco often saw him get up in the middle of the night and disappear behind his bed, where he would then click something open (most likely his trunk). He could not get up and go for a closer look, though, without giving himself away. And to ask was out of the question. Artemis would probably not answer and tighten his security on – whatever information Artemis was stowing away.

There was definitely something bothering Artemis. It definitely was not grades; Fowl could easily not study, fall asleep in every class, and burn all of his homework assignments and still get straight O-pluses and be valedictorian of their class by the end of the year. Something that was definitely important and probably dangerous must have been afoot, in order to claim so much of Fowl's attention like so.

And Draco was going to find out what.


	15. The Game is Afoot

To say that Artemis was frustrated would be an understatement.

He had spent so much time, exhausted so much energy on this project! Professor Dumbledore _was _smart, because up until now, Artemis had not advanced much further than he had the first few weeks after he had gotten back.

He had managed to track the structure of the third-floor corridor through a lot of old research. According to the old drawings of the architectural basis of the castle, there was actually just a small room behind the door. On the other hand, the small room _did _lead to a basement that was connected to six other adjoining chambers, one after another, like a hallway with periodic blockages, terminating in a dead end.

He assumed that the Philosopher's Stone was in that last partition – after all, it would be idiotic to leave it in the first room, where anyone could easily see it.

Finding out what was in each room was actually easier than it seemed. With some wheedling (and a little bit of eavesdropping) he discovered that all of the teachers had a part in protecting the Stone – including Professors Snape and Quirrell.

One room for each of the "core subject" teachers – it made sense. He knew right away that one of the challenges would be on potions, definitely another on transfiguration, with Charms and Herbology in the mix. He assumed Professor Dumbledore himself would present the last protection. If his intuition was correct (and he was always correct), then Quirrell would also have a defense-related challenge.

And for some odd reason, he knew that the "defense-related" challenge would have absolutely nothing to do with the useless information Quirrell pushed into their brains this year.

Since something living had wounded Professor Snape, the first one would have had to have been Care of Magical Creatures. Considering the circumstances, the "protection" was most likely a large, smelly beast with a nasty temper and an excess amount of sharp teeth. Artemis would not have been surprised if it was a troll, but then he remembered that trolls were too tall to have bitten the potions master on the lower leg. Something shorter, but just as dangerous, then. Of course, that narrowed down the possibilities a lot, he thought sarcastically.

The most dangerous thing he had learned about in Herbology was the Venomous Tentacula, although he doubted that was it…he could just imagine Professor Sprout conjuring a large web of poisonous plants, or maybe pods that shot sleeping powders and thorns. He would not put it past the woman to include strangling vines, either.

Past that, though, Artemis had no clue. Charms and Transfiguration were both such broad topics, that the possibilities of what tasks could had been provided were endless. The same thing was with Defense – although Artemis assumed it would be something that Quirrell could easily get past, since he _was_ the one after the Stone, after all.

Potions was quite obscure as well. Artemis had no idea how Professor Snape would work potions into something like that – perhaps one had to distinguish poisons?...

Again, Artemis hated not knowing things, but surprises were part of the challenge – he could live through that.

The real problem was, Artemis knew that he could not trust anyone to go in there and get it for him. Eventually he would have to go after the Stone himself. If only there was a way to disappear for a certain amount of time without anyone noticing…

_There was no time…no time… _a voice repeated inside of his head like a mantra.

* * *

><p><em>Late at night<em>

" – Quirrell's after the Stone!"

So, the three had managed to find out about the contents of the third-floor corridor as well.

"Harry, you can't! You'll get in trouble – you'll die! I don't want you to get hurt!" Granger, as usual.

"Well, Hagrid told me and Ron (_Ron and me_, Artemis was thinking scathingly) how to get past Fluffy, and the rest we can just wing." How bold and rash.

"Well, if I can't convince you otherwise, I'm going with you!" Granger insisted.

Were they actually going into the maze, without any preparation, to try to steal the Stone before Quirrell? Artemis desperately hoped that he was wrong, but unfortunately, he was never wrong.

Then again…this could work to his advantage. Normally, he hated group work, but he could always make exceptions.

"Perhaps I can be of assistance," Artemis said smoothly, walking into their conversation.

The three whirled around. "You again!" Weasley said, sounding annoyed, albeit a bit happy as well.

"Why do you always turn up in the most convenient times?" Granger asked.

"I appear with information when needed or due," he said softly. "I take it that you have also figured out the secrets as well?"

"How did you - ? You _knew _and didn't tell us?"

"I did not relay the information right away because I did not know if it was one hundred percent correct. Besides that, I was attempting to decipher the structure of the protections around the Philosopher's Stone before actually telling you. I assumed that if I gave Harry and Ronald a rumor they would dash in without a thought, and no amount of convincing could get them to regain their patience and wait until the full intelligence is exposed."

It was not entirely a lie, for though he _was_ completely sure of the contents of the third-floor corridor, the rest of the explanation had been completely true.

"Well, good for you!" Granger exclaimed. "Now please, talk sense into these two. They're about to go off and sneak in at night!"

"Why?" Artemis asked, for although he already knew the answer, sounding concerned was one of the greatest pushers for trust.

"We think Quirrell may be after the Stone tonight," Harry and Ron said together. "Dumbledore's out, and we just found out that Hagrid may have accidentally told him how to get past Fluffy."

Artemis cocked an eyebrow at "Fluffy." "May I ask, what is this darling creature you speak of? Something tells me that an undersized and overly furry, little white dog is not the correct pet that you are referring to."

"It's a long story," Harry said.

"Tell me about it. I need to know full details in order to help you."

"Well, basically, Hagrid let slip that he met this cloaked stranger in some tavern one night. He 'beat' the stranger in a card game, and won a dragon egg, and afterwards they got a bit tipsy and engaged in some friendly talk. And Hagrid actually told the man about his pet three-headed dog that he named Fluffy."

"I see. You think that Quirrell was the person there, who bribed Hagrid and subliminally convinced him to give away some important information." Dear Merlin, if that man was that clever, it could pose some inconvenient obstacles. But no matter, Artemis was always two steps ahead. He would win in the end, for sure – he always did.

"Uhhh…right," said Ronald, looking confused as usual. "Anyway, don't ask how, but we found out that Fluffy was guarding the entrance to the third-floor corridor – that was why Snape was injured when he went after Quirrell. Hagrid told the guy that Fluffy is apparently really nice and tame, and all you need is some music to put him to sleep."

"So, now Quirrell knows how to get past the dog, which is the last thing he needed to solve the maze. And tonight is the perfect opportunity with Dumbledore gone!" Potter finished.

"Are you telling me that you actually plan to go in after the man and steal it before he does?" Artemis asked.

"Yes. And nothing you can say will change their minds," Hermione said exasperatedly.

Artemis pondered over this for a second. He wanted that Stone, but could not get it himself, and here was Harry and Ron all ready to go. On one hand, going with them would mean a better chance of making it to the end, and on another topic, giving them the necessary information he had discovered would prevent Harry's death, which was of utmost importance to Artemis.

If those boys died, then he would have unnecessary bloodshed on his hands. Also, if Voldemort truly was involved, then the death of Harry Potter would be quite problematic. Not to mention, if he didn't go now, Quirrell would either get the Stone, or it would be moved and Artemis would be back to square one, all of his hard work for naught.

"In that case, I might as well assist in preventing your premature deaths," Artemis drawled.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we know that a Cerberus is guarding the entrance to the third-floor corridor. That involves knowledge Care of Magical Creatures, correct?"

"Yes…"

"From my research of Hogwart's architecture, I have discovered that there are actually five more rooms you have to go through, with a sixth one at the end, like a partitioned hallway. I also know that the teachers have all played a part in protecting the thing. The five are for the other main subjects – Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, Herbology, and Defense – and the last one is probably Dumbledore's protection for the Stone. If I am right, then each room should present a challenge related to each teacher's subject.

"Now, I think that the maze is not impossible. There must be a way through it so that if Professor Dumbledore or Nicholas Flamel needs to access it, they can. Keep this in mind."

"Great, we'll go tonight, then!" Weasley said happily. "Thanks!" Hermione was right, these two truly were idiots.

_But there was no time…no time…_ the voice said again. Artemis could not waste his precious moments here, uselessly chastising a young Gryffindor for his recklessness. It was not as if he would pay heed to it, in any event.

"Ronald, you just can't –"

"Under one condition – let me come, as well," Artemis interrupted. _NO TIME…Not a moment to lose…no time… _Was that cursed voice ever going to stop? Artemis never had whisperings in his head before, but _there was no time…no time…_ to waste here trying to decipher what it was. That could come later, or he could it ignore it and hope it went away.

"Artemis! Not you, too!"

"You can't receive my help and then let me miss out on the fun." He said this in a such a manner that implied his seriousness, with a hint of humor to hide his less scrupulous reasons.

"That sounds reasonable," Potter said, without a second thought. Ron nodded, finally glad that he had met a "sensible, good Slytherin". Hermione, on the other hand…she was less than pleased.

"Boys!" she sighed. "If you insist, then I'll go, too. I can't just stand here and chew my fingernails, while knowing that you could be getting yourselves maimed in there."

"Glad to know you love us. Now, let's get moving, before Turban-head gets his filthy fingers on that little red rock," said Weasley. Did this boy have no planning whatsoever? Artemis' previous impression of Ronald's slightly existent potential in the brain department was gradually deteriorating once again.

"How, pray tell, will you succeed in sneaking out at night without running into a patrolling teacher?" Artemis asked.

"Oh, it's easy. Harry and I have done it loads of times," Weasley said, to which he received a kick in the shin from his companion.

"My dad had this old invisibility cloak, and we can sneak around without being seen under it," Harry finally explained, once he realized that the secret had been out and he couldn't keep it from Artemis, anyway. "Plus, Ron's brothers, Fred and George, the twins, told us about a bunch of secret passages that they somehow always know about. It should be big enough for all of us – it was built to hide a grown man, and we're all just a bunch of eleven-year-olds. We should fit."

"If you insist," Artemis said.

This could not end well.

* * *

><p><em>Meanwhile…<em>

Draco had seen Artemis slip out of the dormitory that night. He had vanished for what seemed like a long time. Doing a quick time spell, he realized that the boy had disappeared for over an hour already. What was going on?

Draco slipped on a robe and some shoes, and silently walked over to the common room, to not disturb the others (and Artemis, if he was in the common room). But Artemis was not anywhere in sight. Had he left?

Oh, no. This was bad.

Looking back inside the common room, Draco saw that Artemis' shoes and wand were gone (although there was a large Artemis-shaped lump underneath the sheets…which would have been convincing if Draco hadn't seen Artemis place a pillow there beforehand.)

Where could Artemis have gone off to? Surely, he was smart enough to know not to randomly sneak out at night just for fun.

Draco skimmed the common room once again and paced back and forth, checking the secret passages in and out, making sure that they were undisturbed…Artemis must have left via the main entrance. It was the only explanation.

Sighing, Draco knew that Artemis must have a good reason to do this. He was sleepy and really didn't want to get caught out, either, when he spotted a small paper poking out from underneath the other's pillow.

He picked it up – a Daily Prophet article cutout on the Nimbus 2000. Why would Artemis have that here? He was not interested at all in racing brooms or wizarding sports. Draco was about to throw it back down and march back into bed, but as it fluttered down it flipped over, and a new heading appeared. It was about the robbery of vault 713 the day he had gone shopping for school with his parents. That was odd –

Then it all clicked in Draco's head. The troll on Halloween. Potter's cursed broom. The third-floor corridor.

Artemis was trying to figure it out. Draco would be damned if he wasn't right about that part of Artemis' nature.

And Professor Dumbledore was gone tonight – a perfect opportunity.

Luckily, he had wheedled a secret passageway leading to the third floor from the Slytherin common rooms from one of the prefects. All he needed to do after that was sneak across the hallway and hope he didn't wake up any ghosts or paintings.

Draco pushed the loose brick in the emerald fireplace, and crawled through the broken ash grate, for once not minding that his hair, normally impeccably styled, was mussed from sleep and getting dirty from the dust and soot on top of that.

He was a Malfoy. He was a Slytherin. He would make this work.

* * *

><p><strong>TO BE CONTINUED…<strong>


	16. Into the Maze

Artemis, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all traipsing down the hallways toward the third-floor corridor. _Security was quite lax tonight_, Harry thought. He was afraid that they would be caught somehow, but no one was there! Or if there were teachers and prefects patrolling the grounds, they certainly had great timing to not run into them.

Harry hadn't been sure of Artemis Fowl the first time he had seen him – he looked cold and arrogant like the rest of the Slytherins. But even though he was a heartless git, and a smooth talker (although that was not necessarily a crime, since he had also employed those tactics before and gotten out of imminent trouble numerous times as a result), he was also undeniably helpful.

He had to admit, like Ron, he hadn't fully trusted the boy at first, but now he saw that Artemis was just trying to look out for himself. He wasn't like Malfoy, who went out of his way to make Harry's life hard. (Though, now that he thought about it, Malfoy had mellowed down pretty much following the Halloween incident.)

He had to smack himself for not realizing this earlier, about the troll in the dungeons. Heck, if the troll had gone to Gryffindor tower, and Ron nearly got killed, he would have been pretty mad, too!

Just then, his cheerful thoughts were interrupted by a mad cackle.

"Oooh, Peevsey senses something out and about! Could it be students out of bed? Naughty, naughty, Peeves knows if you're invisibleee~!" the poltergeist suddenly sang above them.

Oh, no!...they had forgotten all about Peeves! This could ruin everything! From the looks of terror on his companions' faces, Harry knew that they had all but forgotten about him. (Well, Artemis looked murderous, not scared...but since Peeves was already "dead", it wouldn't be very sensible to just uncover the Invisibility Cloak and let Artemis' glare kill him again...)

Harry knew he had to do something, but what? Suddenly, he had an idea. Pulling on his best impression of a raspy, old voice, Harry whispered, "Peeves, the Bloody Baron has his own reasons for being invisible."

To his delight, Peeves actually nearly fell out of the air in shock. Not that it would have hurt him much. Catching himself, Peeves barely floated a foot above the stairs.

"So sorry, your Bloodiness, Mr. Baron, Sir," he stammered greasily, wringing his hands nervously. It would have been funny if the situation was not so tense. "My mistake, my mistake, I didn't see you – of course I didn't, you were invisible – forgive old Peevsie for his little joke, sir."

"I have business here, Peeves," Harry continued, croaking for added effect, "Stay away from here, tonight."

"I will, sir, I most certainly will," said Peeves, rising up in the air again. "Hope your business goes well, Baron, I'll not bother you."

And he scooted off. Hopefully, Peeves wouldn't run into the real Bloody Baron and accidentally give them away.

"That was brilliant, Harry!" Ron hissed as soon as Peeves cartwheeled off. Hermione seemed amazed, and even Artemis seemed impressed. But it was only a split second – that boy had a perpetual frown plastered onto his face like an old man sometimes. Harry wondered what happened to him. After all, he had survived with the Dursleys for ten years, but he didn't have a problem smiling...

And vampire smiles did not count.

"Let us move, there's no time," Artemis said, and they hustled along to the third-floor corridor.

* * *

><p>Draco stepped out of the portrait-door just in time to see Potter, Weasley, Granger, and Artemis appear in front of the door to the third-floor corridor. There were an extra three of them now! How was he supposed to - ? Draco chewed his bottom lip furiously. Of course Artemis would be sneaking out to meet these three dolts. It was the only explanation; he would never go out alone otherwise.<p>

"Alohomora!" Hermione whispered. The lock clicked open, and the three other boys slowly eased the heavy oak doors open. The hinges moaned softly, like a disembodied spirit on a dark, cold night. Draco moved out of the shadows just slightly to get a better look on what was inside. He could hear some not-so-friendly growling coming from within the room.

Just a little bit more...and he would be at the perfect angle for observation...

"Hang on a second, there's somebody there," Ron said, pointing at his exact spot.

Damn…

The others swiveled to look at him.

"Malfoy!" They chorused angrily. "What are you doing here?"

Merlin…what was he going to do now? For some reason, he didn't think that "sleepwalking" would be a very believable excuse. An idea occurred to him, and he thought that it would be just passable.

"You guys know about Quirrell, too?" he hazarded a guess. It was reasonable – he had been the cause of all of their troubles.

From the looks on their faces, they were thinking, _he knows about it, too!_ So he _was _right – it had something to do with Professor Quirrell. And it wasn't exactly a lie, either, because he did know. Well, five minutes ago, anyway.

"Why were you stalking us?" Weasley snapped angrily. Granger slapped a hand over his mouth, and pressed a finger to her lips.

"Shhh! You'll get us all caught with that yelling!" she hissed.

Weasley turned beet red. His face clashed horribly with his hair.

"I wasn't exactly stalking; I already knew," Draco semi-lied. _About Quirrell. What you guys are doing out here, no. But you don't need to know that. _

Oh, Artemis would be impressed with this. If only he was allowed to actually brag about duping the great Artemis Fowl into believing one of his nice little excuses. Draco mentally gave himself a congratulatory pat on the back.

"But why are you here?" Weasley asked, more quietly but still fuming. He shoved Granger's hand away.

"Like I didn't make it clear before?" Draco asked lazily. He had them in a trap now. They would _have _to take him. "Listen - if you don't want me here, I'll just leave..." he said slyly.

"We can't send him back now," Harry interrupted quickly before any of his peers could protest. Smart one, Potter was. "He has to come with us, or he might tell."

Artemis sighed. "I hate to say this, but you're correct. Get over here, Draco, and join the adventure, or return to safety and forever hold your peace."

Draco went with them.

* * *

><p><em>No time…no time left…Hurry! <em>the voice inside Artemis' head kept whispering. When was this insane multiple personality going to end? Artemis knew he was just hearing things because of stress. Yes, that had to be it. His subconscious was simply telling him to hurry up before it was too late to steal the Stone, and his chances would be forever gone. That was it.

_Danger is nigh…he who is feared…no time…_

What is it with the entire "danger" speech?

_No time..._

No time was right. Artemis shut out his ears and moved on with the rest.

_No time…_

* * *

><p>Entering the first room, they were at once confronted with a highly offensive smell, and a large, growling, three-headed dog. Artemis felt ill. He did not do well with animals. The worthless little worms in Care of Magical Creatures already turned his stomach. And now, a three-headed attack dog? Please.<p>

"This is reminiscent of the troll on Halloween," he muttered.

"Don't tell me about it," Draco shot back. Draco, too, was paler than usual, his pupils dilated, and his limbs quivering. The poor boy had never been right since the troll incident on Halloween.

The Cerberus growled, and advanced on them, snapping and licking its lips hungrily. Drool ran down its massive jaw and formed large puddles by its gargantuan paws.

"Play the flute, Harry!" Ron hoarsely whispered.

Harry didn't seem to know how to play a flute, but he pressed the wooden tube to his lips and tried placing his fingers randomly over the valves, squeezing the wind holes unsystematically. The sounds that resulted were far from a classical symphony, but it was not exactly a cacophony either, because it sufficed in putting the dog to sleep.

"Fluffy's falling asleep! Keep going, Harry!" Ron encouraged.

Again, Harry was playing the flute (not badly, for someone who never knew how to play before, Artemis decided), and their group eased to the trapdoor. It was too dark to see Draco's facial expression, but from the way he was delicately walking, he seemed as if he was seriously regretting joining them, yet too prideful to back out now. Heaving the trapdoor open, Draco and Ron jumped in, one after another, followed by Hermione, Artemis, and last of all, Harry, who still had the flute.

And they were falling and falling into the darkness of the abyss below…

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sorry, I had to cut it off here. I know I'm evil. And I know that this chapter was short and did not contain a lot of plot. This week I have been very busy (is it just me, or do all teachers seem to conspire together and assign all of their projects at around the same time? :P) and did not have much time to write. **

**But no worries! As compensation, I'll upload again this Saturday (instead of _next _Thursday) to get back on track, and the next chapter will pick up in excitement and the main plotline overall. Thanks for reading and putting up with my somewhat irregular schedule!**

**~KM101**


	17. Through the Looking Glass

At once, Artemis felt himself land on some flexible but woody substance.

_This must be the Herbology unit, then, _he thought.

Why did Draco have to tag along? This simply complicated things.

Oh, well. it was too late to send him back, now.

He felt something brush up against his leg. Instinctively, he jerked his foot away from the moving mass of cellulose. A few feet away, he heard Hermione say, "Ronald, move your foot."

"I didn't even touch you!" the other responded irritably. "I'm at least five feet away from you, there's no way I could have reached that far - "

"Well, if you two would stop arguing..." Draco began. He sounded very nervous. "What is this stuff, anyway?"

"It's too dark. I can't see," Captain State-the-Obvious-Potter said. "Lumos." A small corner of the room filled with a soft, glowing light. "Now that you've mentioned it, what _is_ this plant thing we landed on, anyway?"

Artemis was suddenly aware of a presence moving across his arm. Before he could swat it away, however, it had grabbed on to him and coiled around his forearm, slowly constricting like a blood pressure machine.

"What's going on?" Ron yelled, panicking. He began flailing around madly; a vine had wrapped around his wrist. The redhead tugged it off, and in response, the deadly flora held on tighter.

Behind him, Draco was wheezing heavily. "Well, obviously, these vines were not put here just for padding!" He was right. This was the first challenge, and they were all going to get killed soon if someone didn't put a stop to it.

"It's Devil's Snare!" Hermione said. "It will keep wrapping around you tighter and tighter until you are trapped and crushed!"

"Well, that's cheerful! How we get rid of it is the important thing!" Ron gasped.

How did one get rid of it? Herbology had never been one of Artemis' favorite classes. He remembered there was a short passage in their textbook about it…but he had never paid attention much to it. He cursed his own stupidity. "There was a rhyme, Granger – do you remember it?" He hoped that she did. The branches were clambering around his neck now. Twisting his body and flexing his muscles, like Houdini had once done, he managed to temporarily loosen its grip and escape its deadly grasp.

"It goes something like 'Devil's Snare, Devil's Snare – it likes the dark and damp' –"

"So light a fire!" Harry interrupted.

"And quickly!" Artemis rasped. He was slowly turning blue. He tried to reach his wand, but too late – his limbs were tied firmly to his sides. If only Butler had been here…Butler would have been able to break the vines with a twist of his pinky finger. Quite unfortunately, that was not the case, and he would have to take care of himself now.

"But there's no wood!" Hermione shrieked.

"No wood? No wood! ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT!" Ron yelled desperately.

"There's no time! Incendio!" Draco wheezed, but the spell produced a flame all the same. The fireball shot into the air from the tip of his wand and dissipated, leaving behind a flickering, smoky substance. The vines loosened, cowering from the sudden dry light. Following Draco's example, Hermione sent out another "Incendio" and the creepers retracted altogether.

Artemis gasped as the fresh air returned to his lungs. This was what asthma sufferers must feel like, he decided. He was never going to look at Herbology in the same way, ever again.

Without the plant holding them up anymore, the group slipped and slid downwards into the floor below, still stunned and recovering from near suffocation, but alive.

"I think one of by bones here has been cracked," Harry hoarsely gasped, rubbing his bruised ribcage. He was already thin enough as it was, and the living corset had not helped.

"Lucky someone has common sense," Ron whispered, placing his hand on his chest and breathing heavily, looking at Malfoy. His freckled face was flushed from deprivation of oxygen. His eyes bulged slightly, and dark veins showed on his face.

"Lucky someone pays attention in Herbology," Draco retorted, paler than usual, the color barely returning to his lips as he heaved liter after liter of air into his lungs, trying to get them to return to function. "If Granger didn't know that we needed a fire, we could have suffocated in there."

"That's very cheerful," Hermione croaked, rubbing at her neck where a particularly fierce vine had attacked her. There was still a distinct purple stripe left from the living noose. Artemis himself had not escaped the worst of the lethal flora – he could barely walk because a nerve in his thigh had been on the verge of being crushed. Rubbing his sore muscle, Artemis tried to regain at least a bit of feeling in his numbing toes.

"I am now scarred for life. That was the worst thing I've ever gone through in my entire life," Draco declared.

Something told Artemis that the worst was far from over.

_No time…_

* * *

><p>"Wow," was the general consensus as their not-so-merry band walked past the first door.<p>

The room was completely empty save for a broomstick by the door on the other side…and thousands of tiny, fluttering, little, fairy-like objects floating around.

"Are those little birds?" Ron asked.

"No – they're keys! There's thousands of them, and every single one is different…" Draco moaned.

"This must be Flitwick's challenge, if the last one was Sprout's," Harry pondered.

Hermione crossed the room to the other door, trying the handle. It was locked. "Alohomora!" she tried, but to no avail – the door had been charmed so that no one could pass without the original key.

"Which one is the right key? There has to be a way to know."

After a few moments of short observation, Artemis pointed at an old, tarnished, silver key. "Do you see that one? Its design matches that of the lock, and the wings are already crumpled from being caught once. Someone's already been in here – we need to hurry."

"We'll have to catch it," Harry said. Grabbing the broom, he mounted into the air.

As quick as a flash of lightning, the little keys stopped floating around aimlessly and were now beginning to dive-bomb at Harry in a rain of thin, metal bullets. Those on the ground were not safe, either, because the keys that missed Harry when diving past him would take a very long time to run out of momentum and return back on its attacking course. Several times, they crashed into the ground, leaving cracks, chips, and dents from the sheer force of the impact.

It was like a deadly game of dodgeball. Hermione, Draco, Ron, and Artemis covered their heads and necks and ran for their lives, dodging the stray keys that found their way down to earth.

Eventually, though, Harry caught the key and thrust it into the lock, upon which its brethren returned to their normal activity.

"That was awful," he muttered, looking slightly worse for wear.

"Not as bad as the Devil's Snare, though," Draco said softly. "If there's a troll in the next one, I'm turning around and leaving."

_Oh, Draco. You have no idea._

* * *

><p>As they passed into the next room, it seemed at first that they were confronted by a bunch of towers and columns. After the initial shock had dissipated, and their vision focused again, however, the giant, carved monoliths turned into ten-foot-tall chess pieces.<p>

They were perfectly designed and intricately carved to resemble actual people rather than just representative figures for gaming purposes, and carried some rather realistically sharp and dangerous looking weapons. The knights were actual people in armor riding on horses, the bishops stood in their respective attires, the pawns bore standard armor and spears of medieval warfare, the rooks stood coldly and immovably, and the queens and kings of either side stared ahead, determination sketched onto their stone faces.

On their side were sixteen ivory colored soldiers standing in two straight lines. On the far side, leading to the other room, were the red pieces, and in between them was a floor painted in checkers to resemble the game board. Artemis was suddenly reminded of _Alice's Adventures Through the Looking-Glass_. "It seems that this is McGonagall's challenge."

Ron had crossed to the other side of the board, but the two center pawns blocked him with their swords. "We'll have to play our way across."

Artemis smiled. "Excellent."

The pieces refused to move, however, until all five actually took their places on the platform. "Draco, take the spot of the bishop on the red squares," Artemis commanded. "Harry and Hermione, go to the knight and rook on the right end." They did as they were told.

Artemis studied the board one more time. On one hand, he wanted to win as quickly as possible. On the other hand, something told him that sacrificing his friends would not be the best thing to do. Artemis sighed, and made his final decision. "Ron, take the third pawn from the left."

"Why do _I _have to be the pawn?" Ronald asked. His fears were justified, however. He was no beginner to the world of chess, and even beginners knew that pawns would be the first to go.

"Just trust me," Artemis said.

And Ronald did.

Implicitly.

* * *

><p>Winning the game was slightly more challenging, because he could not sacrifice several of the pieces that he wanted to. The first time he had allowed a pawn to be taken, the opposing force (a rook) had taken his battle axe and swung it so ferociously that the poor thing had been shattered into debris with one blow. The red rook then unfeelingly swept the gravelly remains off the board and threw them to the side.<p>

Rather horrified at the physical strength and mercilessness of the true nature of the game, Artemis' "good" side won over, and he vowed to not surrender his friends to the same fate.

Friends? Since when had he begun calling them his friends? Before he could think, though, the mantra restarted – _No time!_

So he refocused on the game, instead, working to a greater goal.

After he had broken through their foe's defenses, though, Ron was able to move to the end, and now, with two queens on the field, Artemis had no trouble winning the game. He didn't even have to use a costly sacrifice or a trick to goad the king into moving into a trap. The opposing defenses were already failing, and now as Artemis mercilessly cut through them, it was only a matter of time before they fell altogether.

"Checkmate," Artemis proclaimed smugly, cornering the King with a Queen and a Bishop. The red king threw his crown to the floor and allowed the group to pass.

All of fifteen minutes had passed.

* * *

><p>Their high spirits were dampened when the stench of the next room nearly knocked them over.<p>

"Oh, no, not again," Draco moaned. Inside was a troll, though asleep and knocked out with its own club.

This one was definitely an alpha male – it could have easily been a chief or a king mountain troll. It was even larger, nastier, and uglier than the one that the Slytherin gang had encountered on Halloween.

Artemis understood why the other boy was worried, considering his previous bad experience with trolls. Only Quirrell could have put the troll there. It made sense. The man was a master with the lesser creatures.

"Quirrell obviously already got to it," Harry whispered. "Let's sneak past it, before it wakes up."

All did not go according to plan, however. Before they could move, the enormous mountain troll snorted and sat up, rubbing its head over the large maroon bump that had grown over its scalp where the club had impacted with its skull. Standing, it picked up its club, sniffed the air, and growled.

The children stood in terror, frozen in their places.

"Look out!" Artemis barely had time to react before the troll suddenly roared and swung its weapon. He was quickly pulled to the side by Harry, and together they dove to the ground, narrowly avoiding their own decapitation as the club skirted over their heads.

Instead, the tip of the club collided with the wall, sending a shower of dust and gravel zooming on their heads. Angry at his missed swing, the troll roared and moved to attack again.

"Do what you did on Halloween!" Draco rasped; he was now hyperventilating out of fear.

"Incendio!" Apparently, all trolls were as stupid as each other, for this one also attempted to douse the flames on his eyebrows by smacking himself in the forehead. Effectively knocking himself over, the troll tripped over the dropped club, and fell to the ground.

Just then, Hermione screamed – the troll's loosely flailing arms were swinging around like a windmill, heading straight toward her. Though it was incapacitated, it was still capable of dancing in the air like an Olympic swimmer in the water.

Artemis and Harry watched in horror as Ron and Draco pushed her out of the way, but not fast enough. The hairy palm swept collided with all three with a sickening _smack_, sweeping them off of their feet, and sending them flying through the air across the room. Ron and Hermione skidded across the stone floor, landing dazed but unhurt.

Unfortunately, Draco, being in front of them, had caught the full force of the blow. Instead of simply being pushed away like the others, he was catapulted like a projectile, higher and further than a human cannonball. The trajectory energy was simply too great to be contained within the small room alone.

The boy hit the opposite wall with a loud _thud. _He fell to the ground, unmoving, with a dark red substance trickling out of the back of his head.

* * *

><p><strong>TROLOLOLOLOLO!<strong>

**Draco is dead!...or is he?**

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	18. The Choice

**A/N: Sorry for the cliffhanger from last chapter. I couldn't help it; I was _trolling_ you, my dear readers! **

***shot* **

**I'm sorry! You have to admit, though, that was good (for a knee-slapper).**

* * *

><p><em>Unfortunately, Draco, being in front of them, had caught the full force of the blow. Instead of simply being pushed away like the others, he was catapulted like a projectile, higher and further than a human cannonball. The trajectory energy was simply too great to be contained within the small room alone.<em>

_The boy hit the opposite wall with a loud _thud_. He fell to the ground, unmoving, with a dark red substance trickling out of the back of his head._

* * *

><p>They stared at the scene in horror, frozen in place. Just then, Hermione let out a little frightened squeak.<p>

That one sound was enough to snap them out of their stupor. Artemis, being the first to regain his senses, ran over out of sheer instinct (he would deny this later on and rationalize with excuses - none of which anyone would believe, which was probably the best for his social skills and mentality, anyway, as he needed something to back up his heart).

"Is he dead?" Harry asked, sounding frightened. "Please say he isn't."

"Yeah, I wouldn't want a fate like that for anyone, even if he was a complete prat to us at first," Ron said, ever so indelicate.

Artemis placed two fingers against Draco's jugular and was relieved to feel the familiar beat of the pulse. "He's alive, but most likely has received a concussion due to the severity of the head injury. If we get him back quickly enough, though, Madam Pomfrey will be able to fix him up and prevent any brain damage that might occur."

Hermione, Ron, and Harry nodded dumbly.

Artemis stared at the prone form of his associate. He couldn't just let someone die like this – he wasn't some heartless criminal, no matter how much he wanted the Stone. _No time…no time…_ Shut up, he snapped inside his head. Now he was talking to himself, too. Plot Deities forbid. All of this magic had to be driving him mad.

He made up his mind to save Draco, even if it took a little extra time – he wasn't going to steamroll over someone and leave him to his death like Quirrell, even if it _was_ the Philosopher's Stone at stake here…

"Sorry," he muttered, and using _diffindo_, began tearing strips of cloth off the sleeves of Draco's robe, thankful that he was comatose. Once Draco Malfoy woke up, though…he would most likely throw a fit at the state of his clothes. He could just imagine the other bawling, "I look like a _peasant_!" and almost smiled, but remembered the gravity of the situation at hand and continued his work.

Artemis wiped away the excess blood and examined the area around the injury. As far as he was concerned, there was no severe skull fracture or heavily severed artery. Artemis bit his lip as he thought to himself. The wound only _looked _bad because human anatomy naturally arranged an intricate webwork of blood vessels around the head, the scientist in his voice told him. Upon impact, many of the smaller arteries had broken, leading to heavy bleeding, but the wound was mostly superficial.

Their only concern was to keep Draco from losing a dangerous amount of blood before they could get him back to the hospital wing.

Taking the strips of cloth from Draco's robe, Artemis began to make a makeshift head bandage. Rolling up one piece of cloth to form a sort of small pillow, Artemis pressed it to the bleeding gash and wrapped several more strips around the area. Seeing what he was doing, Hermione moved to help him, and together, they patched up the wound. Artemis checked the surrounding area of the injury again, just to make sure, and was comforted with the fact that at least there was no other damage done.

"Ron and Hermione, take him out of the maze and back up to the hospital wing. Go now, quickly, before the chess pieces have a chance to reform. The bandage should last that long. If it starts bleeding again, make a new bandage and apply more pressure," he ordered. "Harry and I will move on – someone needs to stop Quirrell, after all."

And so they left, and only he and Harry remained.

* * *

><p>Harry and Artemis watched Ron and Hermione walk backwards through the doorways, each supporting a different end of Draco. Ron was muttering, quite loudly, <em>"He better thank me for this later, because I'm sure as heck not going to do this for him again."<em>

"What now?" Harry asked, as his two friends disappeared through the stone arch behind them.

"Onwards," Artemis said simply, shrugging, and they moved through the stone arch in front of them.

As soon as they stepped into the room, two fires sprung up around them, effectively trapping them inside the room. The one behind them burned violet, while the one in front, leading to the last challenge, burned black.

Artemis turned and faced the violet fire, then the black fire, and cursed to himself quite heartily. Of course there would be a challenge like this. He was stupid not to expect a trap - and one right before the last challenge, too. Of course Professor Snape would come up with something devious like this.

"Great. We're stuck..." Harry muttered.

"Not necessarily..." Artemis said, looking around the room. "It wouldn't make sense to make a challenge that trapped someone inside forever like this, since Dumbledore or Nicholas Flamel would have needed to access the Philosopher's Stone later on. There's got to be a way out."

"Maybe we have to know how to brew a potion to pass the fires," Harry suggested. "That sounds like Professor Snape - making up something that only someone who wasn't a 'complete dunderhead' could pass. And Professor Dumbledore or Nicholas Flamel could probably get past that easily enough. Look at those bottles."

Before them was a table, with a piece of parchment and seven bottles of various sizes on it, lined up in a straight row. Artemis walked over to the bottles and picked one up, peering into the contents. The pungent smell of ethanol filled his nose, and he immediately slammed the bottle down again, pulling away quickly and pressing the cork down past the lip of the glass again.

"What was that?" Harry asked. "Essence of Skunk?"

"Alcohol of some sort," Artemis said, grimacing. "A very strange type of alcohol - I've never smelled it before. In any event, I don't think any sort of potion will need _that _for an ingredient...least of all one that will help you walk through fires without getting burnt.

"You could make them appear out of thin air?" Harry suggested. "Or summon them. I've seen the teachers and older kids do it loads of times."

Artemis sighed. "You can't exactly make potions or potions ingredients appear out of thin air, Harry, or there wouldn't be a need for specialized shops that charged ridiculous prices for simple ingredients. It's one of the five exceptions to Gamp's Laws of Elemental Transfiguration. And there are probably far too many magical protections around this place to summon something, anyway - unless you want the bottles to smash against a ton of doors on the way here."

Harry scratched his head. "Who's law of what Transfiguration?"

Artemis let out a hiss of exasperation. "You know what...never mind. Let's just examine the instructions carefully first before proceeding anywhere else."

Striding over, Artemis picked up the paper, Harry following behind. What did his Head of House have to say about this entire matter, anyway? Scanning the parchment, he saw that there was nothing on it but a simple poem. He read aloud,

"_Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,_

_Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,_

_One among us seven will let you move ahead,_

_Another will transport the drinker back instead,_

_Two among our number hold only nettle wine,_

_Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line._

_Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,_

_To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:_

_First, however slyly the poison tries to hide_

_You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;_

_Second, different are those who stand at either end,_

_But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;_

_Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,_

_Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;_

_Fourth, the second left and the second on the right_

_Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight."_

Artemis read the parchment again, and to Harry's apparent surprise (and his own as well) began to laugh.

He now officially respected Professor Snape…this was a classic work of genius. Not to mention, Professor Snape, for all of his down-to-earth, logical methods, was actually quite well-versed in the art of poetry. The world was a surprising place sometimes – even someone like Artemis could be caught in an unsuspecting situation.

"What's so funny?" Harry asked.

"Nothing. But this is perhaps the most intelligent challenge of all the ones we have encountered so far, even the giant chess set from McGonagall," Artemis said, still chuckling.

"Why this one?" Harry inquired, still confused.

"Oh, Harry. This was Professor Snape's challenge. You and I entered this room, completely expecting a challenge about potions. But this doesn't have anything to do with potions at all!"

"What do you mean?"

"This doesn't test someone on their knowledge of potions, it tests their logic. Some of the most powerful and intelligent people in both the muggle and wizarding world have no lateral thinking skills whatsoever, and they'd be stuck in here forever, not knowing which potion to choose or what to do."

"But that won't happen to us, will it?" Harry asked.

"Of course it won't. All of the information we need is right here. Of these seven bottles, one will take us onwards through the black fire, one will take us back through the violet fire, three are poisons, and two are wine.

"Now look here. The riddle may seem cryptic and impossible at first, but all it takes is a bit of decoding and thinking. For example, the last clue: 'Fourth, the second left and the second on the right / Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight' tells us that the two bottles one from the end must be the wine. And I know that's right because that strange-smelling alcohol that I picked up earlier was second from the left. I'd check the other wine bottle, second on the right, but one sniff of ethanol was enough for my olfactory sensors, not to mention my precious brain cells, thank you very much."

Harry looked rather bemused at the onset of large vocabulary in the process of explaining genius, but otherwise said nothing. Artemis continued on, regardless. He was having too much fun in his victory speech.

(It's one of the annoying downfalls of being a genius - you just absolutely _have_ to explain your thinking to the less mentally blessed population in order to properly receive the credit that you so rightfully deserve for your great work.)

"We are also told that there is poison on their left side, so the one on the left end and the third one from the right are poisons. Now we have three left – the biggest bottle, the smallest bottle, and that last one, which must be the poison, because 'neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides'. That means that dwarf and giant must hold the potions to go forward or back.

"The biggest bottle is on the end, so it cannot transport the drinker forward. That means that the smallest bottle is the one to go through the flames," Artemis concluded.

"There's enough for one gulp," Harry said. "But since Quirrell's already been here, do you think that he brought his own potion, or that these bottles refill magically."

"If it had been Quirrell by himself, then I would say that he brought the potion. If Voldemort was helping him, they could have solved the riddle together," Artemis responded. "We should test it." _No time, no time! _He pushed the voice to the back of his mind, effectively shushing it.

Uncapping one of the bottles of nettle wine again (making sure to hold his breath this time), Artemis poured it out. After a few seconds, however, the liquid begin to recollect at the bottom, and the line moved up slowly but definitely. "Well, that does it," he declared. "They do refill magically. It takes some time, though." He waved his wand over the pile of nettle wine on the ground, and vanished it.

"I think that I should go first – I'm the one that Quirrell's after. After the bottle refills, you can come after me, okay, Artemis?" Harry said.

"Perfect." Artemis had no intention of rushing into danger first. He still had no clue what was in there, except for the Stone, Professor Quirrell, and possibly Voldemort himself. Artemis was dying to see the man in person, as demented as that may seem. Having a tangible fear was better than an unknown one.

"Then let's go," Harry said, opening the cap. "You sure this is the right one?"

"Absolutely positive," Artemis said.

"I believe you," Harry acknowledged. _Implicitly._

"Remember: be smart, expect anything, and plan out what you can. That's all I can give you for now," Artemis advised. No use in making it this far only to have Harry die in the last round.

"Okay." He uncorked the bottle and threw his head back, easily drinking the entire potion with one gulp. How foolish. Artemis would have suspiciously sniffed the contents, and then have an experimental sip, at the very least, first.

Nonetheless...

"How does it feel?" Artemis asked pleasantly.

"Like – like ice," Harry responded uncertainly.

"Then go! Before it wears off." Artemis took the bottle back, capped it, and placed it back on the table.

Nodding, Harry turned around, and vanished through the black wall of flames.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: There should be about two or three more chapters, plus an epilogue. Sorry this one was so short; I'm building up the suspense here.**

**Until next time.**


	19. The Great Showdown

**Wow...you guys are too good to me. I got nearly 900 hits on the first day I published that last chapter...that's a personal record! **

**And sorry for the late update. Last week was very hectic; I had all my tests scheduled on the same day and I pretty much died...**

**Anyway...enjoy. You might find that Harry behaves a lot differently in his showdown with Quirrell. He's a bit more intelligent and insightful, and less impulsive. All because of Artemis, of course.**

* * *

><p><em>"Remember: be smart, expect anything, and plan out what you can. That's all I can give you for now," Artemis advised. No use in making it this far only to have Harry die in the last round.<em>

_"Okay." He uncorked the bottle and threw his head back, easily drinking the entire potion with one gulp. How foolish. Artemis would have suspiciously sniffed the contents, and then have an experimental sip, at the very least, first._

_Nonetheless..._

_"How does it feel?" Artemis asked pleasantly._

_"Like – like ice," Harry responded uncertainly._

_"Then go! Before it wears off." Artemis took the bottle back, capped it, and placed it back on the table._

_Nodding, Harry turned around, and vanished through the black wall of flames._

* * *

><p>Harry stepped through the wall of flames, and sure enough, there was Quirrell, turban and all.<p>

"Mr. Potter. I've been wondering when I would meet you here," the man said. He had lost the stutter, and was replaced by a very confident, wicked looking man. Be smart, he told himself. That was what Artemis told you.

"I was expecting you, too. We could have a party here," Harry said sarcastically.

Quirrell smiled. "Mr. Potter, your sense of humor seems to develop in the oddest of places. Yes. We could have a party, in other times, but now is not the time." And with a snap of his fingers, Harry was bound from head to toe in rope.

Oh, bollocks. He cursed himself. Two seconds in and he had already forgotten to "expect anything".

Of course Quirrell would be much more powerful and capable than he acted. He was a full-grown wizard. Conjuring stuff like ropes would be a piece of cake for him.

But Harry was barely eleven. He still had trouble keeping his temper before Professor Snape...

And now that Professor Snape was mentioned...

Quirrell smirked in his little victory - if you could call a "battle" between a grown wizard and a young eleven-year-old student a true "victory"...

"It seems that you have figured me out. I thought that you would suspect Professor Snape, which you did, at first. But he stood no chance, not when I had the greatest wizard in the world on my side."

"Dumbledore?" Harry asked innocently. Anything to rile up this prat. Harry was just so furious at Quirrell for thinking he could get away with such a selfish thing like this. And Quirrell was working with the evil man that had killed his parents, too. That was just wrong. Sick and wrong.

(Harry hadn't even seen _half_ of it yet. Pun intended.)

He knew that Quirrell wouldn't kill him – not yet, anyway.

"NO!" Quirrell roared angrily.

_If Artemis were here_, Harry thought, _he would have thought it was really funny. He's exactly the type of guy who would love getting people mad just for the sake of it. Plus, he would have thought that making your enemies and opponents mad was a good way to disarm them, because they won't think as clearly...good lord, I've been listening to him too much. He's rubbing off on me. This is creepy._

_And my mind is wandering. That's a bad thing._

But now, he was by himself, and was being confronted by a crazy, possessed psychopath.

Finally calming himself, the hysterical man told his story. "When I was a young man, I toured the world…I still had these naïve principles stuck in my mind about good and bad. But then _he _came along, and showed me that there is no such thing…only power, raw power, and those too foolish to understand it, and those too weak to seek it."

_And crazy Dark Lords_, Harry thought scathingly. _Crazy Dark Lords who will do anything for power, including manipulation and murder. You silly, sorry, self-pitying fool. I'm only eleven, and even I can see that once Voldemort gets what he wants, he'll throw you away like an empty shell. He'll disdain you, and hate you for knowing his secrets. He won't want to be indebted to you...to be at your mercy...HE KILLED MY PARENTS! How can you not see how awful of a man he is!_

Harry was hating Quirrell more and more by the second.

"Yes, I was the one who had released the troll…I cursed your broom, and would have killed you had not Snape meddled…all this year, I have been living on unicorn blood, until now, when I can finally give my master eternal life…With Lord Voldemort on my side, I shall never fail..." Quirrell continued his monologue.

He was just like Artemis in a way...geniuses (or genii, if you want to get technical) always have to explain their amazing plans bit by bit for the less mentally blessed population in order for their "success" (if you could call Quirrell a "success") to be fully appreciated.

"Now be silent while I try to understand how to work this mirror," Quirrell said impatiently. He continued to stare into the glass, and Harry finally noticed the carvings atop the giant mirror.

_Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_.

It was the Mirror of Erised, the very one that he had become infatuated months ago, the one that Dumbledore had taken away and moved to a new home.

So this was the new home, then.

Quirrell had paid no heed to him, and was now looking back at the mirror, lips pressed into a firm frown. "Is it in the mirror? How should I take it out? Must I break it? Help me, my lord!"

How did Professor Dumbledore use it anyway?

"It shows my heart's greatest desire. I see it…I see the stone…and it is mine…"

_Yeah,_ Harry thought, _and I want it too. I want you not to have it._

Suddenly, he had a thought. At this moment, his greatest desire was to get the Philosopher's Stone and get out of there before Quirrell got it. He hopped and inched his way to the side, still bound, trying to get a better glimpse inside the mirror, to see where it was…if he could just see where it was...that was his heart's greatest desire at the moment, wasn't it? To rescue the Stone, before Quirrell and Voldemort could get their hands on it...

"I am holding it, presenting it to my master…but how am I to use it?" Quirrell asked himself.

"_Use the boy…Use the boy…" _a voice rasped out of nowhere.

Before Harry could move, Quirrell whirled around. He snapped his fingers, and Harry was free once more. "Come here," he commanded.

Harry decided that the best thing to do right now was to comply with the orders, and hopefully get a better chance later on.

* * *

><p>Now, he was in front of the Mirror of Erised.<p>

Now, he could possibly have a chance to see the Stone, to find it, and to hide it away from others and keep it safe. He willed himself to move forward, numbly, putting one foot in front of the other, until he stood in front of the Mirror by Quirrell and the disembodied voice that seemed to emanate from him.

"Look into the mirror, Harry. Tell me, what do you see?"

Harry peered into the looking-glass, willing his heart to want the location of the stone. He saw himself, a perfect replica, holding a little red rock. Was that the location of the Stone? Did _he _have it? His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. Before he could get any more churned up, though, his other self, in the mirror smiled at him, holding up the stone for him to clearly see. Then, his reflection winked, and put it into the folds of his pocket – and right when he did so, Harry felt a small, round, heavy object inside his own pocket.

A gasp built up inside of Harry, but he betrayed no emotion. Quirrell was not supposed to know that he had the Stone.

"Well?" Quirrell was growing impatient.

Harry knew he had to lie, but he also had to make it convincing. _Be smart, Expect anything. Plan ahead._

What would make a convincing lie? What else had he seen in this mirror?

Living with the Dursleys for many years had taught him how to be a good liar, either if they were questioning him about something or the school asking him about life at home. He knew that the best lies were so close to the truth that they couldn't be distinguishable.

Stepping closer to the mirror, he tried to look amazed, and extended his arm to the surface, trying to touch it, mimicking the first time he had come in contact with it. "Mum?...Dad?..." He stroked the surface of the glass. "I see…my parents. And a lot of other people, too – they're all of my magical relatives, and they're alive, and I'm living with them, and I never have to go back to the Dursleys ever again…"

Quirrell cursed. A little triumph built up inside of Harry. But then…

"_He lies…he lies…"_

Quirrell seized him by the collar. "Very funny. Now tell me the TRUTH! WHAT DO YOU SEE?" the man yelled.

The disembodied voice knew that he was lying, then. But he couldn't tell the truth, either. "I see my parents! I don't know what you're going on about! If you want me to see that stupid rock somehow, then I don't know how I'm going to do it, because I'm not a greedy, selfish pig like you!"

Snarling, Quirrell moved to strike him across the face. "You impudent little boy –" he snarled, but was stopped before he actually touched him by the voice again.

"_Let me speak to the boy…"_

Quirrell was startled. He seemed frightened, cowed, like the way he was at the beginning of the year. "Master, you are not strong enough yet!"

"_I have strength…for this…do not disobey me…"_

Quirrell gulped, and then nodded. "Very well, then, my Lord," he said, and turned around so that the back of his head faced Harry.

Slowly, he reached up, and unwrapped the turban around his head...

Round and round the ribbons fell, until it landed in a pile at his feet...

And the horror that the cloth hid was exposed at last!...

A second face was protruding from the back of Quirrell's head!

Harry tried to open his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Expect anything! Stay calm! he tried to tell himself, but that…that _thing _projecting from Quirrell's head…it was disgusting. It was the most monstrous atrocity Harry had ever seen.

Quirrell's hair had fallen away where the second face resided. It was living from Quirrell like a leech from its host.

It wasn't even a real human face – the features were hideously distorted. The mouth was permanently contorted into a frightening leer, the nose was pretty much nonexistent, with snakelike slits for nostrils instead, and the eyes were as red as his were green.

Had this…_this_ really been what was hiding underneath the turban the entire year long? He knew that there was more to Quirrell than initially seemed, that the man was stronger than he acted, but this was one lie too far. If only all the others could see this…it was awful, he would never condemn his friends to such a fate as viewing this being. How Quirrell could still live with himself, knowing that this...this _thing_ was sticking out of the back of his head was a mystery to Harry.

Personally, Harry would have preferred death to a terrible half-life like this.

"_Harry Potter…you are disgusted. See what I have become?" _the mouth opened, and while the lips (if you could call those thin lines lips at all) synchronized with the spoken words, the voice seemed to come from elsewhere, echoing all around the chamber instead of concentrating on the throat.

"_I, Lord Voldemort…the greatest wizard in history…reduced to a parasite, living off another…because of you, I was blasted apart…because of you, I was abandoned by my followers, and the greatness I fought for reduced to dust…"_ said the face...thing...object...

Harry tried to stop himself from spilling his dinner all over the stone tiles.

The voice ignored him and continued. "_But you are simply an obstacle to something greater…you shall die, here and now, at my hands and my last servant's body…for while I may be defeated once, I shall never die…I shall never be vanquished…I may be nothing, less than the meanest ghost, but still, I am alive, and I will live forever no matter how many times I am killed…"_

"_I give you a choice now…choose to follow me…obey me and give me the Stone…and you shall escape with your life and receive power that you never have before…or you can resist me, and die like your parents…they fell at my feet, begging for mercy…give me the Stone now, or they will have died in vain…" _the voice rasped.

"LIAR!" Harry bellowed, before he could stop himself. He had to get out of here, away from this madman; Artemis was still in the potions room, waiting for the bottle to recharge…if only he could throw the stone through the fire back to him! He put his hand in his pocket, and gripped it hard, like it was a Snitch that he caught during a Quidditch game. He backed away slowly.

"_You dare call Lord Voldemort a liar, Harry Potter?"_ the thing hissed.

Keep him talking, keep him talking. "Prove that you aren't," he said boldly. "Prove that what you supposedly promise me can really come true. Because if you're just trying to get this useless red lump for yourself you are sorely mistaken."

"_Foolish child…come here, now, before it's too late…Lord Voldemort is powerful…he can grant all of your wishes and desires…"_

"Like what?" Harry goaded, backing away slowly.

"_Power, wealth, revenge, the greatest names and titles…all because you chose to wisely hand over a small stone rather than vainly defy a greater force…"_

"You can't bring back my parents," Harry accused.

"_Perhaps that is true. Or perhaps there is great magic that you have never imagined…a great magic that CAN bring back the dead, like I have to myself...we shall never find out, unless you give me the stone…"_

But that was a complete and utter lie. Voldemort was just trying to trick him. "Are you sure? If you can bring my parents back, then I'll give you the Stone. But you have to bring them back first."

"_Alas, without a body, and eternal life, Lord Voldemort cannot do so…give me the Stone…and I will see to it that these promises are not broken." _What a liar.

"Maybe I will…" Harry said, backing away even more. " – NOT!" He broke into a run, heading back to the potions room.

"_Seize him!" _Voldemort ordered Quirrell. Freedom was close, so close…but then Quirrell waved his wand, and Harry was sent to the floor.

"_Kill him!" _was the order. Quirrell advanced on him, growling, "You die tonight, Potter."

And he raised his wand and slashed it through the air, the words of the ancient curse forming upon his lips.

* * *

><p><strong>TO BE CONTINUED<strong>


	20. Fight or Flight

_"Kill him!" was the order. Quirrell advanced on him, growling, "You die tonight, Potter."_

_And he raised his wand and slashed it through the air, the words of the ancient curse forming upon his lips._

* * *

><p>Harry expected to see a blinding green light and the feeling of floating away…Instead, he felt a sharp jab in his side.<p>

Was this what death was supposed to feel like? He opened his eyes, and surprisingly, he was still in the same room.

"Be prepared for anything."

Harry looked up. Artemis had come through the archway, wand raised. "Professor Quirrell, I must say that I am disappointed. Your lessons were pathetic enough as it was, and here you can't even kill a defenseless kid."

"Both of you!" Quirrell's eyes bulged. "Mr. Fowl, I would never expect this from you!"

"Too bad for you, then," Artemis snarked. "It's entirely your fault."

Quirrell, furious, advanced on Artemis now.

"_Leave the spare, kill the boy, kill the boy! Take him later!" _Voldemort croaked. Quirrell raised his wand again, but before he could change his direction and make up his mind, Artemis had already moved his wand again. "Expelliarmus!" Quirrell's wand flew out of his hand in the other direction.

"_You fool! Leave the wand! Kill the boy with the Stone!" _Quirrell dove at Harry, who tried to roll out of the way, and seized him, holding him in front like a shield. "Put down the wand, Mr. Fowl, unless you want to hurt your dear friend, too!"

* * *

><p>"<em>Kill him! Kill him!" <em>Quirrell grasped Harry's neck and began to squeeze. Oh Merlin, what a low tactic. Using a human shield. Artemis couldn't fire any spells now; Quirrell could easily move Harry in the way. What was he to do? And now, that Harry was in Quirrell's grasp, he was definitely going to kill him.

But all of a sudden, Quirrell screamed and gasped in shock. "My Lord, my hands – my hands! They burn!" Indeed, Quirrell's fingertips were red and raw, and the skin on top peeled away to reveal the pink flesh underneath. He shrieked with anger and pain.

"_Kill the boy!" _Quirrell advanced on Harry again, but to no avail, for as he touched Harry, his skin started to blister and peel again. "My Lord, forgive me, I cannot!"

Artemis realized that some powerful barrier, some ward, was saving Harry from Voldemort's evil. Quirrell screamed and backed up, then ran. But they had to take him down, unless they wanted Voldemort and some other man's body running at large. The only way to kill Quirrell was to…

"Harry! Grab onto Quirrell and don't let go! He cannot touch you without getting – it's the only way to get rid of him!" Artemis yelled.

But even if Artemis hadn't said those words, he would not have had to worry anyway. Harry seemed to know what he was doing even before Artemis had told him, because he was already up and had jumped onto Quirrell, grasping him by the face. The man screamed and clawed at Harry, but, as Artemis noticed with a newfound admiration for his companion, Harry determinedly refused to let go.

Several things happened at once.

As Quirrell screamed for the last time, he collapsed, his entire body dead from the pain of the curse from breaking the ward.

With a ghostly howl, a floating substance, like Voldemort's soul, seemed to peel off Quirrell's skin, detaching like one would pull a lump of clay apart, and escaped into the air, crying in agony and fury.

And the great Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, fell to the ground, very alive but his energy all gone from the fierce battle with the disembodied soul of the Dark Lord himself.

Artemis rushed over to Harry, trying to ignore the defaced cadaver that was once his Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. "Harry?"

The boy did not respond. He was unconscious. All of the drama had sapped the life out of him.

* * *

><p>Now, how was he going to get Harry back up without anyone noticing?...<p>

He could somehow levitate Harry, but the invisibility cloak would not cover them both that way. Artemis mulled over his options mentally.

Then, Artemis noticed the little red stone that Harry Potter was holding in his hand. It was not a very striking thing. A small, round, reddish-violet, translucent crystal…

It was the Philosopher's Stone.

Quirrell was officially deceased.

Voldemort had fled to who-knows-where. (Artemis knew the other wasn't dead, but he could care less...he'd worry about the disembodied spirit of the fallen Dark Lord later, when he actually rematerialized into a tangible object who could be seen and stopped.)

Harry was out cold.

And he was all alone.

There was no one here.

The wheels in Artemis' head began to turn.

_Conscience?_ _What conscience?_ Grinning at his own genius (and perhaps a bit of luck), Artemis began to improvise his plan of action. Of course, Artemis being Artemis, the child genius and criminal mastermind, was good at anything he did...and he certainly was not going to fail now.

"Geminio," Artemis whispered, pointing his wand at the Philosopher's Stone, and a duplicate stone appeared. Artemis was not sure if it held the same magical properties, but physically, it was the same, down to the last atom. Folding Harry's fingers around the fake stone, Artemis tucked his..._friend's_...arm back to his side and the real stone into his own pocket.

It would come in great handy, later.

Artemis smirked in triumph. Here was his path to unlimited riches. He would no longer have to worry about money, and could therefore spend the rest of his time researching and experimenting...

(And finding his father. As heartless as he knew he was, this was one thing that Artemis could not deny.)

As for the Elixir of Life portion of the Stone's talents, Artemis doubted that he would need it now. Maybe later, if by the end of his life he was still curious about other...things...But that was unimportant, and Artemis did not want to spend eternity experiencing the sufferings of Middle Earth. It was the present that mattered, the present that determined his well-planned future.

* * *

><p>As Artemis pondered this, he noticed a figure pass through the ebony flames into the room. "Well, Mr. Fowl, you are the one of the last people I would expect to be here," said Albus Dumbledore.<p>

"So I've been told," Artemis said, taking one last glance at the corpse of Quirinus Quirrell. It was a sorrowful sight.

Professor Dumbledore followed his gaze. "I see."

They were silent for quite some time. "I dearly appreciate your help in this case, Mr. Fowl. Your intelligence and cunning was a great asset, but often, extreme situations such as this one may bring forth loyalty and bravery you never knew you possessed. I hope you learned something more important here at Hogwarts than the use of magic – do you think you know what that is?"

Artemis guiltily thought at all those times he had been serving himself. Nearly abandoning his friends. Working for himself only. Saving his friends only to not have the stain of preventable death on his hands. And coming in here in the first place…he nervously thought of the little red stone that lay securely in his inner jacket pocket.

But what would Dumbledore want to hear from him?

He certainly wasn't going to tell the old man what he was really doing here. Or the little "crimes" he had been committing throughout the entire year. And if Dumbledore already knew, he certainly wasn't showing that he knew, nor was he doing anything about it.

"Comradeship," he answered blandly.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Yes, that is correct. I am glad that you realize, a man can become wiser in more ways than simply intelligence. Even I have things to learn."

Even more awful. His conscience would be having a field day after this.

_(Conscience? What conscience?)_

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"What will become of the Philosopher's Stone?" Artemis asked, pointing to the fake duplicate that was still in Harry's hand.

"Ah. Yes. That." Dumbledore sighed.

Did he know that it was a fake?

If he did, he ignored it and continued on. "The Philosopher's Stone, capable of providing endless riches and eternal life to any man who can use it properly. It is a shame that the things men desire most are the things that are worst for him. I assure you, that once I take this to Nicholas Flamel, he will agree that to destroy it is for the best." Dumbledore sighed. "People will die for things like this, Artemis, without ever realizing that true happiness comes from love – the one thing that no artificial object can truly generate."

"Is _Love_ what was preventing Professor Quirrell from touching Harry?" Artemis hazarded incredulously.

Dumbledore peered at him over his half-moon spectacles, and his voice became somber. "Indeed it was. And it would do you well to understand its power. I once taught a student, one of the greatest minds at Hogwarts, who had everything. Intelligent, logical, polite, charming, clever, and charismatic, he seemed like the perfect young man. He had a great future. But he was incapable of love; he knew nothing of it; he could not understand it, and it led to his downfall."

"I see..." Artemis said.

"See that you do." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled again.

Artemis wasn't sure how being incapable of love could lead to one's downfall. If it was Voldemort that Dumbledore was talking about, then it would be utter madness and a complete disdain for diversity that led to the other's pathetic state.

Even Artemis knew that genocide was not the answer...though that may have had to do more with Darwin's principles than his conscience.

As for his conscience...did he have a conscience? Artemis could recognize his ruthlessness and greed right now...but was he sorry? Not really...well, maybe a bit, since Harry was lying unconscious here right now and Draco was...somewhere...but what mattered was that neither of them were dead. Artemis wouldn't have been able to forgive himself if they had died because of his silly little quest. He was a lot of things, but a murderer was not one of them.

In any case, Artemis didn't want to end up like Voldemort. He cared about himself way too much. His genius was too great of an asset to himself and the world to throw away and end up as a human parasite on the back of some weak old man's head.

Once again, Dumbledore interrupted his train of thought. "Well, enough chit-chat, it is way past your bedtime, young man. And while it is school rules that points are to be deducted for nighttime wanderings, I shall have to make this an exception for you and the rest of your group for these actions tonight, provided that you return directly to bed afterwards. And before you ask, rest assured that Mr. Malfoy is currently resting in the hospital wing, safely asleep. You and Ms. Granger actually saved his life with your quick thinking." So saying, Professor Dumbledore levitated Harry's body back through the arch.

And Artemis was alone again.

He reached into his pocket and felt the Stone, still there in all its glory. Professor Dumbledore hadn't noticed. Or maybe he was pretending. Artemis could never decipher his infuriating charm. Looking around, he wondered what they were going to do with the body.

What Dumbledore had told him about the Stone…eternal life and money could not buy happiness or love.

But his case was an exception. He was going to use the money to save his father, and then his family would be reunited once again.

Now that he thought about it, his father had left home, thinking that he was a Squib. That was probably why the man had never shown much interest in Artemis' other achievements in the muggle world, either. Once his father returned, Artemis could show him all of the amazing things that he learned. His mother would be happy, and his father would love him and finally stay at home.

He tried to convince himself that this was right. He had already gone through so much to obtain the Philosopher's Stone. It would be imprudent and wasteful to confess and return it, not to mention the legal issues that would follow, as well.

As Artemis thought about this, his eyes roamed the room, taking in the last house of the Philosopher's Stone (for now). That was when he saw the giant mirror.

Huge and ornately framed, Artemis observed it. Why was the mirror in here, anyway? What was so special about it that it was the last protection?

Engraved across the top were the words, "_Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi."_

Artemis smiled. Reversing the letters and reading backwards, like one would do in a mirror, and rearranging the spacing between the words, he found that the phrase was, "I show not your face but your heart's desire." How subtle. What would he see?

He looked into the mirror out of curiosity. Would it be endless gold or power? It was not until now that he realized…he already had gold and power. What did he want?

_And his father appeared behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder, and said, "I am proud of you." _

_And his mother was close by, smiling, but accepting of who he was, not once trying to change him to become a nicer, more sociable kid._

Artemis gasped and turned around, only to see no one there.

"I show not your face but your heart's desire."

Scowling, Artemis cursed the mirror to a fiery death and followed Professor Dumbledore out of the third-floor corridor.

That mirror was backwards in more ways than one.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: One chapter left, plus an epilogue, I think. Thank you to all of my great readers who have stuck with the adventures of Artemis and Harry so far!**

**And if you're confused, I'm basing Artemis off his twelve-year-old self from the first book. In this case, Artemis is cold and greedy on the outside, and is perfectly fine with being that way, since he thinks that it will make him a more successful person. An eleven-year-old Artemis would still think in a rather objective-oriented fashion - that is, as long as he gets what he wants without twisting his morals past the point of no return, like Voldemort, it won't matter how he gets it. **

**But underneath that, there is still a conscience, which he acknowledges for the sake of his own sanity but tries his best to suppress.**


	21. Resolution

"How are you feeling, Draco?" Theodore asked.

"Yeah, what's up? You never told us," Blaise supplied.

It was a rather sunny weekend. Artemis, Blaise, and Theodore had all gone into the hospital wing to visit their friend. Draco had not broken his skull, which was lucky, and Madam Pomfrey had fixed him up perfectly well. However, he was still rather weak and ill from time to time. According to the matron, he just needed rest for his brain to recover from the shock.

"Well, of course, I was _unconscious_ with a _head injury._ What do you think?" Draco retorted, but in good nature.

Theodore laughed. "Seriously, though, how are you?"

"Just peachy," he groaned. "And to think I vowed that my first troll would be my last."

"Well, at least you have more reason to hate those things now," Blaise said, ever so optimistic.

Artemis had requested of Dumbledore, out of respect for both his and Draco's privacy, that their involvement be kept hidden. The man had tried his best, but rumors can run three laps around the world in the same time it takes for secrecy to tie its shoes. Especially since Draco had been in the hospital wing along with Harry.

"Yeah. There'll be a reckoning from my father, no doubt." Draco moaned.

"Oh, bad luck, mate," Zabini said.

"Hey Artemis?"

"Yes, Draco?"

"If anyone asks, tell them that I did so because I am just that amazing. If my father asks, tell him that it's a complete and utter lie make up for the sake of rumors and gossip and that I, Draco Malfoy, in no way was involved," the boy pleaded.

"I'll try, but I am afraid that my efforts will become as fruitless as that of Professor Dumbledore," Artemis said apologetically. "Believe me, I enjoy this just as much as you do." It was true. Artemis, despite all of his fame, preferred his anonymity. Remaining in the shadows, known to exist, but otherwise a mystery, was a preferable tactic for him.

Draco sank back into the sheets and moaned.

"At least you're still alive to the world. Potter's been out cold this entire time," Blaise said.

"Yeah. He's always getting into accidents. I kind of feel bad for him, really. He's just a kid and everyone's already out to kill him," Nott said.

"Well, each time he nearly dies, he gets candy, presents, and cards from the entire school," Blaise pitched in, quite cheerfully, though with a hint of jealousy as well.

"It'll take him all summer to finish them at this rate, even if he shares them with all of his friends. And he has a lot of friends," Nott added.

(Of course, Harry would be living on these candies the entire summer, though none of the four knew it at the time.)

"Speaking of friends and candy, Draco, Ronald and Hermione also sent you stuff," Artemis said, poking at one of the packages on the table.

"On a first-name basis with a Mu – sorry, muggle-born now, aren't we?" Blaise teased. "Not that it's supposed to matter, but your dad will absolutely murder us all."

"And I as well," Artemis stated, quite blandly.

"Don't remind me," Draco whined. "Look, are you sure we can't pretend that this never happened? Let's just say that I slipped on one of Crabbe's sweet wrappers, fell, and hit my head on the dungeon floor in the Slytherin dormitories. If Father knows what I did, he'll give me a big fat lecture and put me under house arrest for the entire summer for sure."

"Poor ickle Drakykins," Blaise simpered, in a horrid imitation of Pansy Parkinson. "Whatever will he do?"

The other turned as red as an angry Ronald Weasley.

"Shut up."

Artemis hadn't felt as though he laughed like this in a long, long, time.

* * *

><p>Professor Snape's reaction after finding out about the entire fiasco was mixed in a rather amusing way.<p>

He had been quite angry that the two boys had run off so recklessly. "Mr. Fowl and Mr. Malfoy, I truly expected better from you than to behave like hotheaded Gryffindors."

(He didn't know why Artemis had done so in the first place...nor did he know that behind this was probably one of the most successful Slytherins of all...)

He had also been less than pleased after hearing how they barreled through the protections so easily. "I knew we should have tightened security around that thing more," he muttered. "Not that I would have expected any less from you, Mr. Fowl. Just don't make it a habit in the future."

Of course, he was quite unsurprised when he found out that Quirrell was the perpetrator. "I knew that he was up to no good."

However, Professor Snape had also been rather humored when he heard Artemis' opinion about the potions-riddle challenge. "Did you like it? I'm glad someone actually appreciated it."

"It was good poetry," Artemis shrugged, his opinions, for once, completely truthful.

"Minerva had the nerve to look down upon it. I spent thirty minutes of my precious time writing that. The purpose was to have something Quirrell wouldn't expect. I was hoping that his logic skills were as feeble as his teaching – he'd need a second head to solve it."

Oh, the irony.

The Potions Master had been so very horrified (though his face did not show it – Professor Snape had an extraordinary ability of hiding his thoughts. Artemis would have to take lessons from him) when he learned that Quirrell indeed had had a second head.

Upon discovering that it was _Voldemort's_ face, he was speechless.

And he was extremely smug when Slytherin won the House cup, yet again.

* * *

><p>"And, once again, the House Cup goes to Slytherin House. Well done," Professor Dumbledore announced. The Slytherins all cheered, while the rest of the Houses clapped politely, albeit a bit morosely. Professor Snape sent Professor McGonagall an arrogant glance, and the other folded her hands in her lap and pursed her lips primly in response. Green and silver banners, once again, lined the Great Hall.<p>

The Gryffindors looked pretty miffed at having lost out, _again_, and this time by a mere ten-point margin. But they had to accept the Headmaster's final decision, and, under their Head's watchful gaze, continued cheering for the Slytherins in good sport (because if there was one thing that Professor McGonagall still stuck to, it was rules).

The Weasley twins seemed to be the only ones who were genuinely happy, though seeing as they were always smiling and joking, it didn't mean much. Besides, they could have easily been happy for a different reason...like their final, outrageous, end-of-the-year prank, involving all of the bathrooms in Hogwarts, a large supply of Dungbombs and fireworks, a toilet seat poorly wrapped in old editions of _The Daily Prophet_ attached to a ridiculously small owl that could barely support the weight, and a very, very, very angry Filch.

(Mrs. Weasley would be having a field day over this.)

"Well, it wasn't as if things weren't obvious," Blaise said, grinning from ear to ear. "I mean, without Potter in the Quidditch finals, the Gryffindors were completely hammered, and then you gained, like, a thousand points a day in classes."

"At least some good came out of our little adventure," Draco said, shrugging, "even though I didn't really do anything. That's not going to change Father's mind, though. He doesn't care about those fifty points if I acted like a 'foolhardy Gryffindor' in the process."

"The Gryffindors came pretty close this year, though," Theodore pointed out. "I mean, if you two hadn't gotten those last one hundred points, they would have won. We only beat them by ten points."

"Thanks to Professor Snape and his end-of-the-year verbal pop quiz, in which he was blind to anyone wearing red," Theodore pointed out.

They all sported identical, victorious smirks.

It was something the Slytherin boys would be doing a lot of in the future.

"I bet she's regretting that one now," Draco said, his momentary thoughts about facing his strict father forgotten.

It had been a good year.

And now, Artemis was going to go home quite content.

* * *

><p>"What are you planning to do over the summer?" Blaise asked everyone.<p>

"More traveling, I guess," Nott said. "My father has an entire itinerary planned out, but I'm not sure where we'll be going. He's keeping it a surprise."

"No more sparkly vampires?" Blaise joked.

"Aw, bloody hell no!" was the common chorus.

"Hopefully, my father will look on the bright side, and not be too angry," Draco said. His head had healed by now, but he was still complaining about the place where his hair was thinner because it had taken to regrowing around the scar instead of on top of it.

"So, basically, you'll spend summer hiding from your father," Artemis said.

"Pretty much," Draco responded.

"On that cheerful note, what are you planning to do, Artemis?" Theodore asked.

_Oh, lots of things_, Artemis thought.

He was going to meddle with some underground fairies, and do some illegal business ventures in the Muggle world, and write more scientific papers under pseudonyms, and possibly rescue his father, or maybe brush up on more magical knowledge, now that the possibilities were endless.

Give him an inch, and he'll do something to the ruler and turn it into a mile. (And then mass-produce those rulers and make a fortune on them for good measure.)

"Oh, the usual," he chose to say.

And that answer was all everyone needed.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Ok, so here's how the House point things worked out, if you're wondering. **

**In the book, the middle of the year, the Gryffindors lost 150 points due to the Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback fiasco, and gained it back again after Harry, Hermione, and Ron received 150 points for rescuing the Philosopher's Stone. They were secured in the top spot when Neville got the ten points.**

**Here, the Gryffindors did not lose the 150 points, but they didn't gain 10 from Neville, either. So, technically, at the time when the House Cup was awarded, Slytherin and Gryffindor should have been tied. Then, Harry, Hermione, and Ron got 150 more for the Stone, and Draco and Artemis got 100. So now Gryffindor's up by 50. **

**Now flash back to the troll incident, where the Slytherins gained 30 points, and the Gryffindors did not get their 5. So technically, Slytherin is 35 more points up. And the last 25 points comes from Artemis answering questions that Hermione couldn't throughout the school year, which puts Slytherin 10 points ahead.**

**And that's how I worked it out. Did I confuse you too much? I hope not. I actually planned for Gryffindor to win at first, but then when I worked it out again, it didn't seem that realistic. So. There you go.**

* * *

><p><strong>THE (almost) END<strong>

**of BOOK ONE**

**wait for an EPILOGUE**

**it SHOULD COME SOON (possibly a week or less)**


	22. Epilogue

**EPILOGUE:**

* * *

><p>Trouble Kelp was cursing to himself as he weaved through the traffic of Haven City.<p>

Humans were expanding so much, with all of their underground extensions and mining businesses, that many of the fairies living in shallower underground towns were forced to relocate. And of course, they just _had _to choose Haven City.

During his frustrations, his mind began to wander. It was the most he could do while he waited for the shapeless conglomerate of people to clear up somehow into something other than a chaotic mass.

Why couldn't they choose some other godforsaken area? It wasn't as if Haven City was that special. On the contrary, it was slowly sinking to the level of all of those other Mud Man cities.

Crime everywhere.

Pollution.

Overpopulation.

Homeless vagrants.

Making the LEP's job harder than it already was. How disgusting.

With over ten thousand inhabitants, Haven was small, compared to the Mud Man populations – those people bred like rats! There were millions of Mud Men in just one of their cities, the gods forbid. To the fairy world, that was huge; after all, you could only sustain so many people underground.

At least he didn't have to worry about all that. He had a good, steady job, a nice apartment, guaranteed to him by his position, decent pay, more than enough food to get by, and a little brother to bully - er, mentor. (Honestly, sometimes he just wanted to punch Grub's face in. If he had to hear "But Mummy said!" one more time...)

Trouble winced in sympathy as he noticed one of the new recruits - the traffic duty "children" (because that was what they were to a veteran like him) - nearly get run over. He remembered his first few days in the LEP, before he was accepted into Recon, and later, Retrieval, where he had been forced to do the same thing while he waited for his initiation to be scheduled.

Trouble smiled as he remembered the memory fondly.

* * *

><p><em>During the initiation...<em>

He had been relentlessly tagged a grand total of eight times before finally getting to Commander Root. When the Commander had walked up to him, Trouble had been expecting some harsh chastisement for his incompetency and a red stamp that showed that he had failed the initiation exam, and an unsympathetic reassurance from the documenter at the time that there would always be another chance to try again, several years from now.

(Who was his documenter, anyway? Evergreen? Yeah, it was Lieutenant Evergreen at the time...poor guy had disappeared when he was a major, some time shortly before Trouble's first time as a documenter, when Root had been in charge of that Holly Short girl's initiation on the Tern Islands...Trouble winced at the memory of the fiasco involving Turnball Root. That was not fun. He had nearly lost his magic because of that. He was still pretty pissed off at the guy.)

Instead, Commander Root was - well, not _smiling_, because Commander Root never smiled, and Trouble would probably kiss his beautiful position good-bye if he even _insinuated_ that Commander Root once smiled - lifting his eyebrows and making a rather impressed face as he crossed his arms over the big yellow paint blot on the center of his chest (while Trouble was ashamedly fingering the eight huge yellow paint blots all over his own uniform). Lieutenant Evergreen's mouth was actually hanging open.

And then Commander Root told him that he was a _natural_, and that no one had even come close to being tagged as few times as he had been. Most of the others were in the twenties. The runner-up had been 17 times.

That was probably the proudest moment of his life.

* * *

><p>Which was why Trouble loved his job so much. He had earned it fair and square. And it was exciting; much, much better than the droll lives of those traffic Wheelies.<p>

Not that his job was any easier. On the contrary, being in LEPRetrieval was ten times as difficult. That was what made it so exciting and elite and glorious in the first place.

Everyone in the LEP wanted to be in Retrieval for this reason.

(Plus, they had the badass, sleek black suits and first priority to the lastest, most top-notch technology from Foaly.)

Mmm-hmm.

Trouble slunk past a group of shady goblins, making sure they knew full well who he was by the uniform.

Life was good. He had plenty of successful Recons and was pretty much the best in the business after Commander Julius Root. Yeah, even the goblins didn't mess with him.

* * *

><p>And yet he couldn't make it to work on time because of the damned traffic.<p>

"D'Arvit," he muttered. He was a good half-hour late. He knew that he could wake up earlier, but…come on, he deserved a break once in a while, didn't he? This was the first time in a few decades he had been late.

Normally, he was always perfectly on time, squeaky-sparkly clean slate. It was just today that all his time was eaten up mysteriously somehow. Like all of the little late days that could have happened during the past forty years or so were suddenly condensed into today.

That was the unpredictable, mercurial nature of the business in LEPRetrieval. Sometimes, you could sit in your office for the entire day with nothing to do but paperwork, paperwork, paperwork. And then, one day, you might get three consecutive missions squashed into the span of one morning, so that you miss the coffee break and feel so exhausted by twelve that you can't even eat lunch without choking. (Days like these, Trouble would just quit halfway through and go home. The Commander understood stuff like this. He was nice when he wanted to be. Not that he'd ever admit it.)

But yesterday was a perfectly normal day; Trouble certainly had no excuse for being late. He just was. And he wasn't going to be facing Commander Root's anger no matter how much he deserved it.

Hoping that the Commander wouldn't notice and chastise him for being a bad example, he crawled past the office (because there was really no point in using the sneaking tactics taught back at the Academy for anything else), and was glad to see that the Commander was too busy yelling at another late LEPRecon. Upon closer inspection, it was Captain Holly Short, the only female in the business, and from the way her eyes were dulling, she must have been standing there for a long time.

He felt a little bad; Root always singled her out to yell at. He knew the Commander was just trying to discipline her, since she needed to be on top if she was going to be accepted as a female, but…now he was just glad that she was saving him another earful from the Commander.

And Trouble had big ears, even for an elf.

Which meant that if there ever was the possibility of him getting yelled at (which was very, very, very low, because he was Captain Trouble Kelp, leader of the best LEPRetrieval unit in history) it could potentially be twice as bad.

Speaking of the Commander, he needed to get a surface pass in. LEPRetrieval was exhausting, and the full moon was next week - he would have to complete his Ritual again.

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><p><strong>end INSTALLMENT 1<strong>

**next book: SUMMER OF ICE**

**Look out for it! If there's enough interest, I might put up the first chapter as early as Monday! Please review; as the very last chapter, I want to know what you think of my first full-fledged story (my works so far have been random oneshots and a crackfic made up of several non-related episodes) and what you predict will happen next.**

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><p><strong>***UPDATE***<strong>

**King of Serpents: Summer of Ice**** has been posted! Check it out!**


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